Somewhere in the summer garden
by Rafusen
Summary: A young intern observes in silent horror the treatment of patients in an asylum.
1. 1

Disclaimer: I don't own FY or any of the characters. This is purely fan fiction. I surely know I'm not getting any dough from this *looks at empty purse and sighs*

Warnings: You are reading this a your own discretion. There will be some very upsetting chapters in this story, addressing situations one might not be comfortable with. So please, if you feel reading this will in anyway disturb you, please refrain. Thank you and to my girls-- *kisses* You know who you are. If you're out there, Sakata Ri Houjun, I'm gonna draw that doggone doujin SOK if it kills me!!! ^^'

It was the summer of my twenty-third year, a torpid season littered with a pale humidity, the sweet fragrance of hibiscus dying silently in the shade of a barren plum. The entire world had ceased to breathe, trembling in an acrid mirage of heat and sweat, borne down by the shadows of branches against a ground scorched and sweltering, ridden with pain. 

I had just graduated from the university that spring and was established at the Institute of Mental Health in Wakayama for my internship. I suppose I had been looking forward to the opportunity to work with real people for quite some time; textbooks, notes, professors seemed to know, to know endlessly and completely and yet they could not convey the reality in a suitable manner. It still remained beyond tangible, and now I could feel, gripping the leather cover of my '83 Nissan's steering wheel, that at last I could put my efforts to use, drawing forth finally upon the wisdom bestowed unto me by mindless professionals detached from all.

Anxiety, too, I could feel, as I approached the outskirts of Wakayama. The highway, which had seemed somewhat congested at the first venturing of my trek, was now seemingly empty but for the ice stands riddled about the sides of the road. Ice, of course, being a temptation too great for even a very disciplined student, with my owned skewed sense of direction prodding me, I stopped briefly for a cherry flavored icee and instructions.

- City kid, huh?

- Just graduated, actually.

- You from Tokyo University?

- The Shinjuku University for Medical. 

- Shinjuku, ya say? I got a cousin who lives in that district. She's a waitress at the Golden Pavilion in the Red Light District. Momo Ishikawa? Ya know her, maybe? Lighting a cigarette brusquely, the flicker of his lighter competing futilely with the blatant heat of the sun.

- I'm sorry, I don't. I really haven't had the opportunity to go into the red district too often. 

- A real shame. She's cute. She just cut her hair, she tells me yesterday on the phone. I'll bet it looks real good. She's got a small face.

- You wouldn't happen to know if I'm on the right road to access the Institute of Mental Health and Behavior, would you?

- Only about a mile or so. You're goin' the right way. You work there, or ya visitin' somebody?

- I'm an intern. Well, today's my first day.

- Uh-huh. Good luck, you gonna need it man. Working with them kooks. Flicking his ashes into a small, geometric shaped ash tray, his deep brown eyes seemed to fade away, into a dream I could not understand, I could not see. He drew back, winking at the blinding glare coming off the hood of my car, a small wrinkle appearing by the side of his mouth. 

- Thank you.

- Oh, no problem, man. Have a nice day!

A mile or so, I am in the right direction, supposing the man knew what he was going on about. He seemed suspicious, almost agitated at my presence, yet strangely delighted all the same. Had I broken that sadly droll tranquility of lifelessness, wheels sliding along the gravel, that daydream passing him by like a stolen memory? It seemed, in the rearview mirror, he was lost in thought, thoughts of Momo no doubt, her burnt blondish locks falling with each dedicatory snip of the barbers shears. It seems people like to have their insatiable boredom broken into, thought it perturbs, even riles them to swearing softly into the dusky afternoon wind.

My hand idly finds the radio dial, picking up a faint tune amidst a snowstorm of static squeals and cries. I've never really been one to listen to the new and upcoming bands other young men and women my age are always ranting about. There is something incredibly soothing in the old melodies wafting in through the long dead decades before me, before my generation of loud riotous screaming teenage angst and pop stars. I was teased by my roommate in the dorms about enjoying the oldies but goodies, and yet… perhaps it is my personality. People often say I look much older than I actually am. And I sometimes feel that, too.

__

The Wakayama Institute of Mental Health and Behavior, next exit : Exit 29. 

I swerve gently into the left lane. Somewhat glad to have finally arrived (the heat in my un-air-conditioned car was getting quite unbearable), and yet an apprehension like bile stewing tempestuously in my abdomen, like a sharp knife twisting, causes me to slow my pace considerably. I could not have possibly missed the glaring white signs, the thick, gothic print declaring to the heavens this is where you are, this is where you go when you reach this point, when you go beyond. Just as an expecting father in the hour of birth cannot fathom what he is actually expecting, so was I, entering through the wrought iron gates accented with writhing ivy and lettering, _Welcome to Paradise._

If I had known then, known the pain that paradise brought with its end, I may have backed out, burning rubber on the newly painted cement driveway. I may have driven back to Shinjuku, to my small apartment cluttered with newspapers and bedclothes, to my insignificant yet satisfactory part time job at Pomegranate Grocery. I may have driven into the red light district and, throwing caution to the wind, looked for little faced Momo with her raggedly cut blond locks, darkening roots showing, and asked her out for dinner.

But all I knew then was this is what I wanted. This is where I had tried so hard to get an internship at.

I heard so many good things, oh they really help people, it'll look really good on your resume, son, your mother is so proud.

If I had known, I might have wept for them.

*

Dum-da-dum-da-dum!!!! Hiya!

Tasuki: *no comment*

Chichiri:….What the hell izzat, no da?

It's the promontory, Cha-cha-cha-chiri!!!

Tasuki: It's the lavatory!

Can you guess who's telling the tale?

Chichiri: ….um…me, no da? (isn't it usually me, no da?)

Keep reading, my love, my precious. Things is about to get good. ^^


	2. 2

Disclaimer: No own FY!!!

Warnings: Don't worry, no torture--yet. ^^ 

Chiri: Whew na no da!!! *sweat dropping*

^^ Read and review, you know how to make me happy!!!

- A pleasure to have you finally with us, Yamamura-san. The headmaster was so thrilled to learn of your arrival that he has arranged for a special treat-- he wishes to show you around himself. 

- I am truly honored to have been chosen. I only hope I can prove myself worthy of working under such a renowned and respectable man. The long, snow-white corridors of the sanitarium had the rather unpleasant smell so well permeated amongst hospitals and clinics of all kinds; that artificial, metallic scent of cleansers, and further beneath it the dank scent of unseemliness, the kind which cannot be dispelled, defecation smeared invisibly across the false purity of sallow paint. 

The nurse who strode briskly by my side as we wandered through endless cycles of blinding whiteness might have been attractive if not for the discordant sharpness of her features. This, brought together with the insatiable uncertainty writhing in my gut, made her countenance no less than that of some unknown ogress bringing me afore my imminent doom. 

Through the stainless windows the faint orange glow of the setting sun illuminated shadows upon doors, myriads of unopened doors, fading lightly into a deepening darkness, an immeasurable quiet. How strange that there is no sound, that there are no human voices rising and falling as the ebbing tide…in a place like this, where one would think chaos inevitable to lie beneath each level of insanity…

My attendant smiles, something startling and terrible, a large gash creasing across that stony visage slowly.

- Yamamura-san finds the quiet unusual, no doubt?

-Well, it does seem…a bit strange.

She laughs, a bewildering sound, as it is neither truly mirthful nor counterfeit, yet hideously deformed. 

- It is lights out. The headmaster keeps very strict regimens around here, even for the other doctors, fumbling with a set of thick and laborious keys, And the headmaster…he, of course, has everything under control. I've worked in other places where they roam about, late at night, and it isn't pleasant. Her sudden change of expression has left me nearly exhausted from confusion. It seems as if she is a mask, and nothing more; but surely, change can affect ones mind, into thinking things that disfigure the truth, reality.

We entered a softly lit room, clad with luxuriant leather upholstery, shelves of old and perhaps outdated psychology references. A sizeable window is curtained heavily, shutting out the last rays of the suns gentle light…how I cursed the looming heat of the brazen sun earlier, but now…the room is so cold, I feel as if I have entered a dungeon. 

- Please, have a seat, Yamamura-san. I'll bring tea. 

Centered in the room is a treacherously sized desk, neatly stacked folders and papers shuffled about, no bric-a-brac to suggest humanity; and for the first time since I had initially entered the gates of unknown paradise, I wish to leave. My urge is in fact so strong I actually begin to rise; and then am paralyzed as his eyes fall on me, smiling strangely in the faint light.

- Ah, Yamamura Mitsukake! What a pleasure it is to at last meet you! Extending a hard, calloused hand to clasp my own in a brief handshake, I note his fair Nordic features, longish blond hair swept back abruptly , narrow eyes like gaseous blue flames, stars. His build is enviable, thick and perhaps a bit too masculine. 

- It has been quite some time since we began accepting interns again for study, his voice is deep, resonating, And was pleased with your academic achievement. 

- I'm a poor example of a student, I am afraid. 

His eyes shift, meeting mine directly. There is something here…there is a feeling….

- I never choose but the most disciplined of graduates to participate in an internship here. My facilities are rather severe, I suppose, in this manner…His gaze breaks off from my own as the head nurse re-enters the room with a tray of hot tea. 

-Black, I hope, he grimaces at her. 

- Of course.

- I certainly haven't been very formal at all with you, have I? He laughs, waving his hand in exaggerated nonchalance. This is Nakakawa Soi, the head nurse at these facilities. You will be spending quite a bit of your time learning from her, she's really the best example we have here of fortitude and determination. 

- I am honored, bowing deeply in response to the general formalities, I begin feeling a little less anxious, perhaps…well, perhaps under the recent circumstances my life has taken, I allowed myself too much creativity and made something relatively normal into a freakish nightmare. 

- Don't show too much appreciation, her many boyfriends may become rather jealous, a smirk, and her eyes glint maliciously for only a moment; smiling (that deformed looking smile, no less!!) sweetly, she bows and departs.

- Soi…is an expert in medicinal regimen. She's been working here, since the Wakayama branch was rebuilt three years ago.

- Rebuilt? I'm afraid I…

- Nothing really, he says cautiously, yet with the caution of a serpent, Simply put, they had to burn it down. Black mold growing in the air ducts for years, terribly bad for one's health, you know. Sipping his tea silently, swallowing in one swift, smooth motion, The only way to rid a place of such stuff is to burn it, once it's gotten to that extreme. Old fashioned air systems cause all kinds of innate problems, let go too long.

He appraises me without a word. I can feel his eyes shifting to and fro, examining my face for any emotion. He seems to be interrogating me, although I am uncertain why. 

- You'll be living in building B, along with the other minor doctors and nurses. I had an introductory packet made for you, it includes a map. So you won't get lost.

- Thank you very much, Sensei-sama. 

-Please, please, again, the careless waving of his hand, Let's not be so formal, it's degrading. After all, we're now colleagues, and I'd really prefer it if we weren't so…tense. Cocking his head, You see…the environment you're in…you'll be in, for the time being…is sometimes considerably difficult to bear. I'd really appreciate it if we could be as friends, partners, instead of superior to inferior. It makes me feel…scaling my face briefly, …estranged.

- So please call me Nakago, if you will.

- Yes, sir. 

Standing up suddenly, he takes me by the shoulders, studying my face seriously. I remain expressionless, not an arduous task for me, as I am usually not the expressive type. After several moments of dead quiet pass between us, he laughs loudly, slapping my back.

- You will need that, he chortles.

- Nakago-san?

- Your lack of emotion, his voice has suddenly changed into stone, hard and invariably cold. You will, no, _must_, hold onto that. I request it.

I imagine I appear perplexed, so he continues:

- That is why I selected you, out of all the potential candidates for internship at this facility. I saw it in your eyes. You, leading me towards the door, slowly, You, you have an advantage. Reading into your files delighted me, finding that although Yamamura-kun was indeed a wondrously intelligent and quick-witted student, a cold, unfeeling one, as well. He glances at me, blue eyes glowing hollow in the sudden ferocious fluorescent light of the corridor. 

- You must understand something now. If you know it now, perhaps later…you will not make the mistake of treating them as normal.

My heart is temporarily frozen, I can feel it thudding solidly against the confines of my chest wall, moving at a slow, yet startled pace, a thin tingling sensation running rampant up my arms and back.

- The patients here…cannot be treated as normal. You must never allow them that, because they are not. 

You must never make them feel…as if you are their friend, as if you are going to make them normal. His face is pulled into a tight frown, lines drawn faintly around the corners of his mouth. 

- I-I'll do my best…to observe your wisdom, Nakago-san….

- There can be no mistake, he continues. His eyebrows lift, eyes dancing with a fire I have not seen…a cold fire, the reflection of moonlight upon shimmering icicles…

- You must keep that stoic attitude of yours, Mitsukake. It will help you to…deal with them as what they are. What they truly are. We have come to the main entrance/exit into the courtyard. He opens the door, escorting me out with sincere farewells until the morning is to dawn again.

- Thank you, Nakago-san. I am very happy to be under your service. A great privilege for me, thank you very much.

- I'll see you tomorrow, after roll call, no doubt. Soi will help you with your initial training; I'm sure some of the nurses living in your apartments will help you around. Feel free to ask me for anything. And, sighing rather dramatically, he leans slightly against the door. 

- Good night.

I bow again, and proceed towards building B, my sectional apartments. I feel this terrible dread divulging itself from my innards, a disquieting thought comes to mind:

__

What if, what if I can't do this? What if I can't handle it? Gods, I've wanted to do this since…since…and now I have the opportunity to really help people, people who no one can understand….Right now I feel so weak, and he is so…like a razor left unnoticed….

I mentally slap myself. The apartments are spacious enough, considering how terribly empty my own is. The suitcases I had brought with me are lain neatly across the futon, ready for disassembling. Going to work at a steady pace, I contemplate how my life, my feelings have changed in a matter of moments….simply by being near the man, I had felt a dreadful unease, but I suppose that's what one should feel, after all, this is a life changing step for me…

I sigh, collapsing on my rather stiffly unused bed, clutching at my racing heart, full of doubt. I came here because…

I just had to know….

To know why…

What you were feeling….when you….

-Shouka, I whisper into the still humidity.

^^'

Chiri: I am still terribly confuzzled na no da!! Where am I?

Tasuki: Damn conceited little sniveling --

Boys, boys. 

Chiri: *tongue out* Nya nya!!! No da!!!

Something different, ne? I never thought I'd use Mits as my protagonist!!!

Mits: *silent doom*

Tasuki: Aw, Mits, it ain't so bad. *pat pat* At least you ain't havin' to frolick about as some dark and cutely evil aelfkin, ne?

What think so far? Review? *mewls with pity*


	3. 3

Disclaimer: I do not own FY or any of the characters. But thank god for Watase, otherwise we fan girls would be at a loss for fiction!!!

Warning: In the last chapter, I probably should have warned everybody of ole' Naki-chan's sudden disruptive appearance. Whoops, sorry. I mean, that's scary enough by itself, right? ^.~'

Chiri: Where am I, no da?! It's really quite upsetting, I ALWAYS get to be the protagonist---

Mits: *DOOM*

Chiri: *whimper* Gomen ne, na no da. *cries*

BUT!! The initial warning are, yes there will be torture, and no, not yet, but it's coming…BWA ha ha ha!!! Please review to make me a happy kittle kat. 

I feel… a cool breeze gently caress the curve of my cheekbone, the scent of flowing grasses, hagi, wafting thinly in the air. 

Opening my eyes slowly, my vision contracting to reveal her warm, glittering eyes staring unabashedly into my own, that pure, warm honey color I so love; her soft, rose lips parting softly, light filtering in between the willow branches, revealing her smooth, porcelain skin.

- You're finally awake. Her eyes are smiling, shining with love, tenderness. Her hand strokes my face, and I feel (oh it's been so long ) my own visage breaking into a grin, playing softly on the corners of my lips.

- How long….how long have I been asleep?

- Oh…her eyes, twinkling, Not too long. She folds her sweet delicate hands in her lap, looking up into the fathomless sky, hair floating lightly on the concurrent zephyr. Look, dragonflies, she points, the sleeve of her blouse drooping gracefully off of her slender arm. Rising up slightly on my elbows, I can see them dancing above the brilliant white of the Shasta daisies, in my summer garden…

Petals crumbling away in the wind….she turns to me, that wondrous beauty permeating everything, soaring higher into the heavens with each simple breath. She holds me in her arms, fingertips lightly against my short black hair…

I…

I…know this place….I know…

This…memory…

- Mitsukake, she whispers. Don't leave me…don't ever go away…

- You know I won't…You know I can't, gazing up into that beautiful countenance, leaning my head against the swell of her breast…

-Shouka…

The glare of the sun is suddenly clouding my vision, disturbing the harmonious moment, and I hear, to my dismay, the soft tapping of rattan blinds against the window sill. Behind my closed eyelids, warm blood color, and a sound…someone's voice…

- Mitsukake…? Mitsukake-kun?

Opening them fully, my eyes now take in the reality I thought I had dissipated in a dream…Bright, almond colored eyes stare worriedly into my own, rimmed with thick, dark eyelashes. They look out from a young mans face, a very attractive one, whose lips part in a rather toothy smile at my waking. He is dressed in a white nurses uniform, collar undone carelessly at the throat, his name tag askew. 

- I thought you must've been pretty tired from driving all day yesterday, so I didn't wake you up for roll- call…a hesitant smile, But don't worry, I filled you in. He outstretches a lithe hand eagerly. 

- It's great to have you here. We all have really been looking forward to your coming, you know. He bounces up from my futon, adjusting his shirt accordingly. My name's Yatsushiro Tamahome, but let's just leave it at Tama, 'kay? His grinning is ceaseless.

I gather my senses after some interval of time, and, dressing myself in the standard white uniform for my position, he brings in a tray with breakfast. 

- Oh, you didn't--

- Ah-ah, wagging his index finger at me playfully, No arguing. Eat up, gotta keep your strength! Especially, wincing, If you're going to be studying with Soi, she's a real bitch. Rolling his eyes, Believe me, I trained under her for my first year, totally mean, totally bitchy. 

He watches in fascination as I wolf down my food hungrily, barely stopping for a breath. 

- Don't give yourself a stomach ache, man. He laughs cheerily. Hey man, we gotta fly. My shift is about to start, and Soi will eat us alive if we aren't on time. I clean myself up hastily, then accompany my new colleague into the main courtyard, the sun warming me thoroughly , dispelling all remains of the dream still clutching desperately at the confines of my mind. He seems genuinely pleased with me, although I'm not really sure why, and links arms with me, his walk jaunty and singing with each step. 

- I've been…really lonely here. He looks at me cautiously, sighing, Sometimes it's hard, you know, when you don't have anyone to talk to. So…he blushes faintly with a saccharine innocence I haven't seen in a long time, too long…if you ever need to talk, about anything, anything, I'm here for ya! Suddenly, he waves his arm, Yo!

Glancing over to the right, I see a rather disgruntled man emptying the garbage dispensers with carelessness wave back. 

- What's up, Tama? Isn't you getting' on your shift, ya whipper-snapper? Get goin'! He must be at least in his middle fifties, a rather plain man with wisps of graying hair , lines creasing his haggard face. 

Entering facility A, into those falsely clean halls, I see, for the first time since my arrival, human life beyond employees, shuffling around in what appear to be pajamas of some sort, a dull beige color. They stare at the floor, their hands, the walls, but never at anyone, anything moving, and this puzzles me. I feel this insatiable urge to grasp the nearest human being by the arms, looking him fully in the face, glaring into those evasive eyes filled with some unknown pain…

Tamahome greets each one nonchalantly, in that irresistibly charming way of his, all the while holding onto my arm tensely, as if he's afraid I will be lost in the sparsely crowded hallways. Coming to what appears to be a main gathering room, walls lined with bleak brown chairs, gleaming white tables, and a sectioned off area behind glass, where that terrible face looms anxiously, orifice warped into a most unbecoming snarl, that, I suppose, was intended to be a frown of disapproval. 

- You're late, she snaps irritably, orbs flashing with anger betwixt us, I'm writing you up, Tamahome. This isn't the first time, either.

- Aw, c'mon Soi! His voice is mocking, teasing, and she isn't liking it. I was only trying to help our new man get accustomed to his schedule--

- Shut-up, shut-up. She jabs something down on her notepad with undetermined ferocity, spinning around on her heel, then coughs out:

- I'm not in the mood. Neither are the patients, neither is Headmaster, so quit shitting around and start distributing the meds. She piles a tray of Dixie cups, filled with assorted drugs, into his waiting arms, slapping his leg with a long pointer stick. He giggles in response, whistles what seems to be the Funeral March of the Marionette, and saunters out. 

- Hey.

- He turns around, half-smiling. What now?

- Take him with you. I've got a meeting in fifteen with Headmaster and the upper counselors and can't be stuck babysitting a newbie. She seems to spit this all out with so much venom and distaste that I am beginning to feel indisputably sorry for being such a frightful burden to her. She glances at me briefly, giving my appearance a once over, then briskly trots off to a better cause.

I glance timidly at my fellow worker, whose cheeks are puffed out with amusement. 

- I told you she was a bitch. 

- I'm sorry for having disturbed her so much.

- Ah, don't take it personally. She's always like that. I've been here for almost two years and she still treats me like that. With total, and utterly delightful, disdain. He grins. You'll get used to it.

- …I…don't know. He shrugs in response, guiding me down corridor 1A, tapping lightly at the first door before gleefully bounding in. The occupant of the room is still abed, blankets tussled about and all over, covering the rather hulking frame beneath. 

- It's time for wakey-wakey!! He loudly denotes, ripping the covering off of the trembling figure, curled up in a fetal shape. What I see before me startles me into a much unsuppressed gasp, quite unlike myself, and yet…

This…man….seems…

His body, or what is visible through the stained bedclothes, is lacerated with strange gashes and burns. Unkempt, longish hair smothering his face and arms, almost like that of an animal, sinews of hard muscle poking up from underneath severely drawn skin, taking on an almost grayish coloring…His eyes, bloodshot and wild, come to rest on Tamahome with disgust, and he swats out at him suddenly, yet carelessly.

- Uh-uh, you don't wanna get back in the straight jacket, now do you, Ashitare, Tamahome whispers gently, forcing him lightly to sit up and ingest the prescribed medication. I don't want to do that to you. I really don't; that's a good boy. He pats the bedraggled being on the head, and for the first time, an expression of deep sadness crosses his lovely features. 

We exit the room.

- What-- what was wrong---

- You tell me, he says softly, his gaze downcast. Isn't that why you're here? 

- Yes, but--

- I've been here, he interrupts, for so long, and yet I've never seen any of them leave. He stops walking, takes my arm. Not one. 

- Some of them, he continues, can't leave. It's not possible, I know that, even. They're too sick in their minds. Like Ashitare, nodding to the door from whence we came, he doesn't even know he's human. He thinks--if he thinks--well, I don't know. But there are some, some who I know could be totally normal, some who shouldn't even be here, Mitsukake! His voice carries and urgent tone that rings repeatedly in my ears.

- Are you going to change that? Is that why Nakago-- headmaster-- chose you? With gaze of a small child wishing to be appeased, so his expression bears this message.

- He told me…I begin, slowly, He told me he wouldn't just choose anyone. I must have impressed him…somehow…as being able to help others. I don't know, bit I'll do my best. That's why…that's why I came here.

__

I have to know why you did it. I have to know why you left, traveled to the place I cannot go. 

He is smiling, eyes glinting with unreserved pleasure at my words. 

- Well, I'll be glad to help you in any way I can, remember that. I'm here for you. 

With that , he picks up the pace and walks quickly down the hall, ignoring the doors still closed.

- Shouldn't we--?

- Nah, they're all in the Mess Hall by now. I follow him, uncertain, gripping my notepad close to my chest.

I cannot tell him what the headmaster inferred to me that night. How he reveled in my silence, my coldness, my ability to convey little emotion. How it pleased him to know…

That he would bind them closer still.

Review? ^^ Nyao!

Chichiri: I'm feeling so neglected, no da. 

Tasuki: YOU? Neglected? Aw shat up, I'm the one who's been--

You guys!!! Don't worry, you get your debut in the next chapter!

Chiri: Yippee no da!! 

It's so easy to please the masses….of cute monks….


	4. Hold on just ONE minute, no da!

Disclaimer: I don't own FY. *sob*

Warnings: I just wanted to let you all know--

Chiri: Shut -up, no da!! Just, shut-up!! *sobs*

0.0 …Chiri?

Tas: Aww, he's just throwin' a hissy fit. Ya got him so damn spoiled with all that heroic 'I'm the pure and magical monk child flying through the fuckin' air and savin' dark an' evil Tasuki's' that he can't see straight. ,,

Chiri: You shut up too no da!!!!

Tas: Or what?! Or WHAT?! *fisticuffs*

Boys, boys…

Chiri: I wanna tell the story no da. Change it right now, no da. -_^

But Chichiri, it's somebody else's turn--

Chiri: I wanna tell the story!! Me!! Me!! WAAAAAAAAA-- 

Tas: *swack* It AIN'T YOUR TURN, you little turd!!! *whispers* It actually oughta be my turn by rights…

Chiri: You wanna piece 'o' me no da? Huh? Huh? *fisticuffs, daaaing*

Tas: Oh yeah, bring it on, baby. I'm shittin' myself from the apprehension.

0.0'

Chiri: -.0'

Tas: WHAT?

You do know big words!!! I do love you!!!

Tas: I been reading' yer fic what da ya expect?

Chiri: -.9 She doesn't know big words either. She just uses the thesaurus thingy on the browser, no da--

*smack* Eh heh heh…^^' You're being terribly irate about this whole 'Mits is the protagonist' thing, Chiri-chan.

Tas: Spoiled brat, says I.

Chiri: Oh yeah, well you smell funny.

Tas: WHAT?!! 

There is really no need to--

Chiri: You smell funny too. No da. *smirk*

He's starting to remind me of my three year old niece…

Tas: Sho' is. *points accusingly* But you did it to 'im!!

Chiri: Did what. I'm perfect, beautiful, seductive, lithe, magical, whimsical, -- need I go on no da? I don't need any crazed fan girl to tell tales of my glorious splendour--

Tas: Yeah, yeah.

Chiri: -_0 *tense*

Tas: Blow it out yer pretty little porcleain white ass, babe. ~.^

Chiri: -.-' You are…jealous…of my irresistible beauty…no…da…*tense*

Tas: ^,,^ Nyooo--hooo-hooo….

Chiri: -_o *tense*

Tas: ~.^ *blows a kiss*

….?

Chiri: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! *tackles*

Hotohori: *skewers Chichiri like chicken teriyaki*

….

Tas: ….

Hotohori: *cough* I just thought things were getting a little out of hand, what with him going on about how incredibly beautiful HE is….

You killed Chiri!!! Noooooo!!! I can't finish the fic, he's one of the most important facets to the story--

Chiri: Da? -_^ Da?

Tas: Yer supposed to be dead!!! *whack whack*

Chiri: *snaps fingers* *nyan-nyans heal 'im*

Chiri: That's my girl!! Erk, girls, no da…*twinkle* *dances*

……..*passed out*…..

Tas: I'm goin' out fer a drink….'


	5. 5

Disclaimer: I did not come up with nor do I own FY. This is fan fiction. 

Warning: Gomen ne , we're continuing on with the story now!!! ^^ Hopefully, Chiri-chan will learn to keep his sudden violent urges to himself from now on.But! For warnings, language, some mature themes.no torture yet ^^' You know.the perfect music for writing fics is Vivaldi. ^^ *grin* Really!! Try it!! Right now listening to Bassoon concerto 'La notte'..it's so nice!!!!

Disrupting the imminent stillness of the gentle dawn, something like a myriad of humming bees in the catacombs, as we continued our informal and somewhat hazy procession into the Mess Hall. Shockingly loud, but not as perturbing as the silence that seemed to lurk consistently within the dingy hallways, I found myself to be rather stunned at the massive amounts of energy and wordless, entangled voices. 

Crowded with men of all ages and types, all wildly expressive in countenance or completely subdued, less gray than I had at first imagined, chattering away as they took sup without hesitation or much notice of our unexpected entrance.

Tamahome seems to enjoy this type of atmosphere to the ones we were previously subjected to. He grins, wide and beaming as rays from the early sun in the sky, making his way gingerly through the multitude of patients, smiling friendly hellos and distributing medication with care. The men gaze at him as if he is some unknown savior, grasping at him as one might a god passing through the realm of mere mortal man, greeting him formally and gawking. I simply lean against the corner of a peeling wall, near a small barred window, observing all. It is the most I can do, it is all I can do.after all, I suppose it would be unfair to steal away even the smallest twinkling of light from the star of the show.

- Oi, Tamahome!! I been looking' for ya! A outrageously beautiful young man, perhaps no older than nineteen, rises from his chair in a rather sensual manner, his lithe body seemingly swaying in a sweet unheard rhythm as he approaches Tamahome unabashedly, throwing his arms around his neck in a impulsive embrace. 

- Ah, Tasuki, eyebrows knitted in frustration , You really shouldn't do that so much, it freaks me out.

The boy cocks his head, releasing his temporary prisoner, soft red hair falling to one side ingeniously with his swift movement. I cannot help but catch my breath at his absolutely astonishing features; one could only say he resembled some modern day Ganymede of legend. His bronzed skin gleams in the iridescent sunlight pouring through the shafts between the iron bars, reflecting shamelessly off into amber-colored almond eyes, wide yet narrow at the corners.he appears somewhat Japanese, but I am also quite certain he must be of mixed descent. He smirks noticeably at Tamahome's scolding, shrugging it off effortlessly, smiling at his fellow inmates, the glint of smallish incisors playing at the corners of his soft pink mouth. It's wrong of me, and yet I come to thinking about how can anything this lovely.be here? Isn't this a place designated for the deformed of society? Whether in mind or countenance, should something like this boy be permitted in such an existence?

But..perhaps there is a deeper reasoning, one my own feeble mind does not yet grasp. I suppose I shall find out soon enough.

- Here you go, Tas, handing him a cup loaded with more medicines than the eye can decipher, and he downs them all, sans water, assorted colored capsules all disappearing down that lovely and lofty throat with the slightest hint of discomfort.

.Which makes me wonder how long he's been here, after all. I shift my gaze towards the trees bending gently in the warm summer breeze outside the window, fingering my pencil abstractedly. Is this what Tamahome had meant earlier, when he--

- You must be the new doctor, eh? An eyebrow raised in query, the miniature god strolls over languidly, smiling seductively unknowingly or not, We've been hearin' about ya, winking. A few others are now staring blatantly in my direction as well.

- Why yes. I'm still in training, I'm afraid.

- Why ya afraid? He laughs childishly, We don' bite. We-ell.I've been known to.but it ain't ta hurt, if ya get my drift, leaning close, nudging me with his shoulder softly. This causes quite a riotous outburst of deranged laughter from our various audience, including Tamahome, who pushes Tasuki gently aside.

- Don't mind him, that's just.well, this is Tasuki.

- Good to know ya. Bowing steeply, he glances up at me, a shyly seductive smile surfacing as his lovely honey eyes meet my own.

Eyes.I know that color, don't I.

- It will be a pleasure to get to know all of you, I reply somewhat genially, and this is how I truly feel, despite the churning in my stomach, despite the terror resonating through my very soul at being amongst them, for there is another feeling, one of genuine delight, dancing up from the bottom of my heart.

Suddenly immersed in a swarm of bodies and friendly faces, grasping at my hands and bowing respectfully, introductions whirling around in my ears, I feel quite, and for the first time, content, the final shreds of anxiety dissipating with the morning.

Tamahome is leading me out, by the hands, smiling to himself in satisfaction. He must truly believe.I will be able to help these men..and I do.I want to help them, it is my only desire.

__

Is it? What did you come here for? What did you hope to find? What's breaking your heart?

- That Tasuki's really something. You'd better look out for him. He's been here for over a year and is always getting me in trouble. He pouts noticeably, then: He seems pretty nice, but.he can be really weird. I haven't read his files, after all, it's off limits for the nurses to get into the headmaster's stuff, but.

He hesitates deliciously. He knows I want to hear more, and he can't resist teasing. Well, I heard he's manic-depressive.but.well, I also heard he's totally nuts. 

- Aren't they all? I muse, my eyes wandering heavenward, to a ceiling riddled with cracks and scars.

- Well, no! He argues, Not all of them. But he definitely is.He thinks he's.invincible.or something.And he does things.Glancing up quickly, Well, you'll find out. He's bad to the bone, man.

Passing into the Main Hall, I notice a few random patients seated in chairs, staring dully out the windows, or at each other, muttering to themselves, amongst themselves. Tamahome returns the tray to the cabinet behind the glass, motioning for me to stay as I am.

- Look, I'll go find Soi. She should be back by now, especially if she's to be training you today. It's just basics, so I don't know what she's acting like such a bitch for. He clears his throat, then, turning to me, he puts his hands on my shoulder, waveringly.

- I.catches his breath, This is good. I feel happy. I know you're going to do good here. I know it. I feel it.I feel like you.and I.well.he looks away, retrieving his hand, Well, never mind! A cheery smile, I'll be right back, just cool out for a bit, 'kay? He walks briskly away, head bent in thought, perhaps. I seat myself next to a small, pallid man who appears to be sleeping, glancing briefly in his direction before something shocking catches my eye.

A woman.

Sitting on the rim of the window, gazing out silently, hand pressed gently against the glass, curling and uncurling, lissome frame hunched somewhat, longish, black-purple hair hiding her facial features from view. I notice this, however: tears, sliding smoothly down a marble-white neck in a steady flow, and soft sobs shaking the tiny and graceful body. I find my curiosity insatiable as women aren't permitted on premises (unless, of course, they are relatives under visitation, or employees), and standing, I walk over slowly, cautiously, placing a hand on the little girl's shoulder.

She barely makes the effort to glance up at me, gorgeous eyes filled with unmistakable tears of anguish, streaked down cheeks rosy from weeping, eyelashes caked together from the salty water flecked throughout. There is an distinctive familiarity about this moment, captured in a single frame of my mind, the sadness of her expression, the shine of her dark hair against the noonday sun.

__

I knew I'd find you here, in some form. I knew you'd come. 

- What's wrong?

Leaning away from my grasp slightly, she sighs.

- Oh, nothing. It's all right. 

- It can't be all right. You're clearly upset.

- I.just get this way, sometimes.a weak, watery smile immerges, .I.haven't seen you before.Eyeing my uniform, An intern?

- Well, yes. I just arrived here yesterday. 

- Oh? A heavy exhalation, she brings up her knees to her chin, wiping her tears away absentmindedly. You must be terrified. I was.

- Was?

- When my parents brought me here.she stares into nothing, looking past me, tears threatening to overcome her once again, without fail.

- I admit, I was a little afraid. But mostly because.it was new. I feel all right now. Attempting to smile warmly, I brush away a small tear trailing lightly down the curve of her jaw. Please don't cry. 

- I told you, I can't help it. They just keep coming out, no matter what. 

- Do you want to tell me about it?

Raising a suspicious eyebrow, and a rather well-defined one, I may add, she finally smiles, although somewhat wickedly.

- You sound like Headmaster. In all his glory.

- Oh! Well, I.I didn't mean to.I suppose I must look intolerably confused, because she giggles, a slight tinkling sound, like tiny bells in the wind. 

- Well, at least I made you laugh, right?

- Hmmmm.no, you're definitely not like Headmaster, then. Grinning, playing with the ends of her long, loose hair, You know, you could get in trouble for talking to me like this.

- Really?

- For treating me so nicely, that is. Looking down at her knees shrouded in pale beige material, eyelashes grazing her cheekbones as they flutter, stirring something within me.some memory.

__

Why.why does this seem.so .familiar? What is this.

- Well, what's wrong with that?

- I'm not.choking back sobs, suddenly and harshly, .I'm not.normal.you know..nobody is, but.

- That's right. No one is. Can I tell you a secret? I place my own large, callous hand over her very small, slender one, which appears to startle her immeasurably, then please her all the same, a small, winsome smile spreading across those lovely feminine features. My heart is pounding recklessly in my chest, and.it seems, it seems this has happened a million times, this moment I am creating with this individual, this lovely, disturbed creature.

- After all, it's just a setting on the washing machine, this concept 'normal'. 

Her eyes go wide, staring, mouthing the words I just relayed, then a genuine smile, free of pain, free of darkness, and a mirthful little laugh, cheeks blushing softly with pleasure. 

- You're.right. It's true. Who the hell is normal, anyway? Laughing again, gently touching my shoulder, feels like a thousand sparks flying as we touch..

- My name is Nuriko. What's yours?

- Ah.Mitsukake. 

- Well, then, Mitsukake.extending a supple hand to grasp my own, It's nice to meet you. I hope we'll be able to talk more again. She nods towards the right, and I now notice Soi strolling at a leisurely pace into her sectioned off area, sipping on some beverage from a straw protruding from an oversized plastic cup.

- Don't forget me, she says, turning away, coy. There are so many here. Don't forget me.

- I won't.how could I? I feel a true smile cross my visage, an untainted happiness.an elation I haven't felt since.since.

- I suppose Tamahome just farted around like he always does, ne? Soi's eyes are belittling and narrow with hatred, speaking his name with undetermined rancor. Well, we haven't got all day, you know. Hurry up and get in here. She slaps some mysterious paper work down her desk, thumbing through it briefly before casting me a withering glance. 

- Headmaster has requested that you feel free to study the patient files. 

- Oh.

- What that means is you'd better do it. He wants you to, it's more like an order, do you know what I'm talking about? Her eyes squint menacingly.

- Yes, yes. I'll be sure to start on my research as soon as possible.

- And don't get too friendly with the patients. It's one thing to feel sorry for them, but.a distant expression, foreign to her countenance as of yet, slowly stretches over her face, .but don't get close. 

- I'll try to be more obedient in the future. She looks bewildered, almost as if she believes I'm mocking her, then turns back to her desk. 

- File work, first. Then we'll see about diagnoses charts. All right?

- Thank you ma'am. She snorts and promptly sets me to work on an overflowing file drawer.

*

Collapsing onto my futon, releasing an exhausted sigh, I feel my muscles finally relaxing, almost painfully, against the stiffly soft mattress. The day never seemed to end, and the work given to me, though meaningless and trifling, was terribly draining. I suppose that's how it always is with menial work; I had expected to do something a little more mentally exerting, but found my assumptions had little to do with what the head nurse thought was best. 

Rolling over, holding tight my pillow, I feel sleep covering me like a wave, passionless and tireless , interweaving reality with dreams..I am vaguely aware of Tamahome's presence turning out the light, gently smoothing his hand over my face.

__

Don't leave me here, alone.

Don't forget me.don't forget.

How could I forget? Ho could I ever forget?

You haunt me ever.

And dreams.endless eternities lasting only moments but extending into forever.

I see her face, streaked with tears.blood.

His eyes are wild, filled with agony, with honey.

Midnight black hair filling my vision, and yet this part isn't a dream, a warm person lying close to me, as if seeking protection from the unknown horrors of night..

What will become of me?

What will become of them?

Chiri: I thought you said I got a part in this chapter no da!!!

Well, sorry. ^^

Chiri: You're sorry!!! I'm sorry, sorry you're so mean na no da.

Tas: *wink* But I gotta part!!! Nyoo-hoo-hoo..

Chiri: *swack* I hates you no da, I really do.

Tas: Brat.

Review? What think? Any good? *cries* Oh, I want to thank my fervent reviewer, you are wonderful. I don't know what happened to good ole' fan fiction.net in a year, but it seems like all the true reviewers up and left. Thanks to all you considerate ones!!!

*kisses*


	6. 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Fushigi Yuugi. *cries dramatically*

Warning: Hi there! This chapter contains language, some mature content, and violence. You have been warned previously, so if you wanna turn around, you sure can…Also, you-know-who shows up. Yup.

Chiri: *grin grin*

Who said it was you?

Chiri: *temper tantrum*

Onward!!! And don' forget to review, it's what keeps us fan girls at bay.

Just as I assumed would happen, the Headmaster reprimanded me privately for being on close terms, even for a brief time, with the patients. It came with the ending of the second week, after I had been assigned my own case studies formally, he had beckoned for me to enter his darkening office.

- I understand you're a little anxious, but we certainly don't condone that kind of behavior here. His eyes, narrow and thoughtful, look beyond me, reflecting the shadows dancing along the polished wood walls, frozen blue flecked with white. 

- I am sorry, Nakago-san. I won't disobey further. It just seemed to me--

- Hmmm? Nothing is as it seems here. You should at least know this much by now. 

- I am sorry. Bowing low, I feel his powerful and pressing gaze upon me, burning into me. Glancing up for dismissal, he nods, appearing disquieted, waving his hand in that nonchalantly disturbing manner. He says nothing, simply stares blankly at his desk, eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

- Mitsukake, he starts, words smoothly running out of his mouth, Perhaps I do understand. Perhaps that is why I am so hard with them. It is difficult, making eye contact, It is difficult to be totally indifferent. I do not ask this. Just…be more discreet from now on. Soi made it sound as if you were actually conversing with the patient avidly.

- I was only trying to ease her pain…and…

- There is really no need to explain yourself…waving again, and now, a vague smile creasing his expression, You may go. 

- Thank you. Bowing again, I quickly emerge from the room, sweat beading my forehead lightly, though the ward is indeed quite cool. That man…he…something about him, his movements, visage, his…presence, it undoes me mentally. I feel as if I am in fact deteriorating afore him, falling apart, my hard won countenance of solidity shattered. 

Clutching my patient study folders tightly to my chest, I make my way down the sun drenched hallways, taking little note of the commotion that seems to be taking place, crowds gathering rather violently in the 1A corridor. I suppose I should see what is going on; instead, I find the back exit, and walk through the courtyard to my apartments. Right now, I need…a breath of fresh air….not defiled with strange and illusive odors, resembling death and decline. The sun is so warm upon the bare flesh of my arms, lovingly caressing me, almost feeling like that far distant thing called human warmth….Memories stir up in the vacuous place of my heart, and, drawing in a shuddering inhalation, I retain myself and enter into my apartments without further ado. I must appear somewhat peculiar myself, although here, I deduce, it would be sorely considered.

Seated on my futon, I spread before me the files I will now be 'in charge' of-- that is, I'll be tending to these particular patients and their many needs. Not as a nurse would, mind you; I certainly am not qualified to dole out medication or help an invalid to cleanse them self. However, my duties will entail careful study and recording of patient behavior, counseling as and when necessary, and generalities. Etcetera, etcetera, on and on….and on top of all this, studying for my exams, remembering roll-call and lights out, as well as all the little things one must do to continue existing, such as bathing, eating, sleeping…

Closing my eyes, I hear, somewhere in the distance, the mournful song of a cuckoo. How strange, in broad daylight, my thoughts run…..

- Yo! Tamahome peeks his head in through the sliding door which separates our chambers. His smiling visage is a relief to me, and I invite him in. 

Actually, it has occurred to me that since I've been here, Tamahome has been sleeping in my bed with me each night, rather uninvited, and yet I suppose I shall not toss him out; I'm not exactly sure why he does it, and yet it could not be anything carnal, as I would've come to know that sort of thing….well, I'm a light sleeper.

I guess it would be safe to say it's because he is fearful, although I know not of what or why. Perhaps it is the environment, or perhaps…it is something quite else. No matter, the company is gratifying and softens the undeterminable loneliness etched on the innards of my heart and mind. 

He leaps onto my futon, shaking the folders loose of their contents. 

- Oops!! Sorry, Mits!! He shuffles them back in order, causing further disarray. Confused, and possibly irritated at his own clumsiness, he sits back, staring at me in a hapless fashion.

- These are my case study files, I explain somewhat drolly. 

- Oh!! Grabbing one excitedly, he observes the contents; and then, aware he's violating policies, hands it back begrudgingly. So, who do you work on, eh?

- I haven't really taken the time to glance through them as of yet.

A heavy pause, and then:

- I heard Soi was trying to get you nailed.

- Mmm?

- Heard the Headmaster had a word or two with you?

- Nothing really. Just reminding me to treat the patients accordingly. 

- What, you mean like drooling, fomenting animals? He chortles, an unhappy little sound.

- …I suppose. Still, I can't help but feel…

- We're human, after all. Seeing Nuriko like that gets me, too. He pushes the sleeves of his work tunic up, wiping his brow instinctively of the sweat glistening on his face. It's so fucking hot!!

- It is. The ward feels like an igloo, though.

- Oh, yeah? Too bad my shift is over….looking out the window, he suddenly points to the tree branches extending over the roof. Huh. A nest.

- Anything in it? I strain to see, leaning my face close to his.

- Nope. Looks like some old eggshells, though. He smiles at me cheerfully, patting my shoulder. I'll get it down later and show the boys. 

- Isn't that--?

- Yup. But if you're sly enough-- he winks-- Nakago-san won't catch everything. Mostly you gotta watch out for the ogress. Sitting back against the body pillow strewn carelessly on the edge of the bed, he picks at his thumbnail absently. I have the sudden urge to sketch him; I brought a few charcoals with me, and a notepad, but to my dismay I can't recall where it was I put them…

- You hungry?

- …Not really.

- I know. It's too hot. Too hot to eat, too hot to live….nnngggggg…..He rolls off of the futon onto the floor dramatically, where he stays, unmoving except for the gentle rising of his chest, and the fluttering of his eyelashes. I watch him fall into a light nap, his eyes roving about underneath the lids at some undeterminable dream…

Looking over the files at last, fanning myself with the loose introductory slip, I gaze at the information spilling out in black ink over the graceless whiteness,

Patient Name: Shido Nuriko

Number: 17B

Diagnoses: Severe Bi-Polar Disorder, Grade Three Depression, Anxiety Disorder

Notes: Subject has severe bouts of depression. Can catch at onset if medicated. Three counts of attempted suicide. First time with kitchen knife; other two included various pain relievers. Has sexual orientation problems. Believes self to be female, though is in fact male. 

--shocked, I thought he was a woman too. Hmmm.

May conclude subject has some mild type of personality disorder. Unable to identify; further action needed. Father and mother refuse communication. Severe chemical imbalance believed to cause bi-polar and depression. 

These notes seem strangely scattered, almost…careless. I wonder if perhaps the Headmaster expects me to elaborate on them…yes, this must be the case…

Patient Name: Fujiwara Hotohori

Number: 1003A

Diagnoses: Manic- Depressive, Grade Three Depression, Mild OCD

Notes: Subject regresses into self frequently. Not given to talking or interacting. Suspect mild autism? But too little evidence. Attempted suicide on fifteen counts. All with various medications, including and not limited to pain relievers, narcotics, sleeping medications, etc. Will not openly express self or feelings to others. Sometimes given to high levels of anxiety, although not often enough to be considered serious. Severe bouts of depression frequent. 

-- Well, he doesn't really seem dangerous to me at all, although from these sparse notes, one would wonder. I flip past this particular gentleman's only to stop, suddenly, drawing in a quick breath, at what was to come next:

Patient Name: Ivannovna Tasuki

Number: 856B

Diagnoses: Manic- Depressive, Mild Schizophrenia, Sociopath, Severe OCD, Grade 3 Depression, Anxiety Disorder

Notes: Subject must be supervised at all times. Subject shows open hostility and commits acts of violence. Has been repressed by extreme measures several times. Is subject to violent mood swings, severe depression, severe anxiety. Attempted suicide on 38 counts, all with weapons. One count of hanging self. 

Sometimes seems disjointed from reality; rarely has comatose seizures but still relevant. Occasional blatant displays of sexuality; related to sociopath behaviors, perhaps schizophrenia? Extremely volatile, towards self and others. OCD includes lack of cleanliness (schizophrenia related?), scratching at self continuously, pulling out hair, inflicting wounds on self in general. Has no outside contacts and must not be allowed in courtyard at an cost.

The young man I encountered two weeks ago Tuesday certainly did not fit this description: I remember his honey- colored eyes glittering vivaciously….his soft, sweet expressions, and his genial outlook on the whole, the way his shoulder brushed against me teasingly…

But an unfortunate incident taking place three days prior perhaps readied me for shock. I was in the sectioned off office in the Main Hall, filing ( damn that woman and her insatiable laziness!! ) when the skirmish took place. All seemed peaceful enough ( nothing is at seems) when he came waltzing in, a medicated grin plastered on his face in a skewed sense. I recognized him, indeed; but he didn't seem to be the same as before-- the blaze of life in this wide eyes seemed to have been extinguished, his skin seemed a sickly pallor…I shook my head, going back to my immediate though worthless project. 

He leaned against the window, his face contorted in a chillingly harsh smile, pressing his hands against the glass with a pained ferocity, and then BANG!-- with his fists, as hard as he could, whirling around, ripping at his arms involuntarily with his nail, small trickles of blood splashing out from the newfound cuts. 

I saw Soi jerk his arm back and around, holding him in that position as she randomly called for another nurse's aid in the situation. He struggled, then appeared to relax; Soi loosened her grip, and he snarled, something very ugly, and twisted himself out of her grasp, attempting to run away from her. The entire thing seemed almost unreal….nothing had caused the sudden attack, or provoked it into happening, so to speak, or so I had seen…At that point she let out a shrill squawk, reaching out and grabbing his arm again, he turned his fist right into her face, sobbing. She let him go then, but he didn't run, after all; instead, he sank to his knees, weeping and howling, clawing at his face. By the time the other nurses came to restrain him, his face was shredded and bleeding profusely. Soi gave some guttural command to the others, helping them lift him up, dragging him off wailing and shrieking, moaning out pleas and sorries. 

The next day I had seen him again, small cuts and scrapes riddled on his pretty features. He was rocking silently in a chair, holding himself, repeating some unknown mantra, tears streaking his face. His bright fiery hair seemed to be permanently set on end, and only one thing came to mind…

Shock treatment, then. Tamahome had informed me later that night that Tasuki had been subjected to shock therapy at least twelve times since he'd been there. I felt…so much pity for him…when I saw his sad expression, my heart was torn asunder. 

Placing the papers aside for a moment, I stand up, stretching. The evening sun is setting into the hills beyond, leaking color onto the earth's proportions heedlessly. Tamahome remains motionless, his thin body damp with perspiration, clothes sticking to his form tightly, revealing a well built form underneath those many layers. Shadows play across his countenance, the residual light slowly dancing through his eyelashes.

I pour myself a glass of water, gulping it down rather loudly, wiping my mouth with my sleeve, then rooting through the drawers in the tiny kitchen, I find my drawing supplies. 

In the failing light, I sketch his limp form, smearing charcoal absently on my forehead as I swipe stray hair out of my line of vision. Caught up in my work, I am unawares when he finally comes to, his eyes opening slowly in he gray darkness enveloping the room. 

- Hnnn? I fell asleep?

- Yes…

Raising himself up on his elbows, he grins sheepishly. 

- It's the heat. Feels a little cooler now. Wish they'd put a fucking air conditioner in these apartments. Shifting his gaze on my notepad, What's that?

- Oh…well, I allow him to take it from me. 

- Hey…his eyes widen, pupils dilated in the forthcoming night, Hey, this is good. Is it me?

- I suppose. 

- You should do something with this talent…he hands it back slowly, giving it one final glance before arching his back, yawning. 

- It was always just a hobby for me.

- Nice, but if I could draw like that, I wouldn't be here. I'd be drawing shoujo comics. He smiles again, standing up rigidly. Hey, we missed dinner…

- Ah, I'm sorry. 

- No biggie. He shrugs. I gotta go make a phone call…he walks stiffly out, working his shoulder blades viciously, You get to look through your packets? 

- Yeah…

- Not too many surprises, ne? He slips out, sliding the panel shut behind him, silently. I sigh, and pick up the remaining folder. 

Patient Name: Li Chichiri

Number: Unspecified as yet

Diagnoses: Unspecified. Previous diagnoses from Prison Facility Confidential.

Notes: Violent tendencies. Undeterminable behavior. Personality disorder? OCD? Thought to be a sociopath. Possible psychosis. Depression. Attempted suicide record 205 times throughout life. In prison for manslaughter and attempted murder. Severe mental disturbances. Suffered trauma in prison and home life questionable.

My heart snags in my chest. _I'm an intern right? Isn't this… a little questionable? My skills aren't at this level!! How the hell do they expect me to handle someone like THIS?! He's a murderer, that's a little different from your typical mentally ill neurotic…_

Tamahome pulls the sliding door open again, this time carrying his pillow and dressed in his blue striped pajamas. He stumbles into my bed, covers himself with a thin gray sheet. We say nothing; after all, what is there to say? If he feels…safer…next to me…then I'll grant him that much. Of course, it likely will be unbearably warm tonight….

My phone beeps, much to my surprise. Picking up hesitantly, -Hello?

- Mitsukake. It's Soi. Come down to the Main Hall. We've got a new patient. You've got his file, right?

- Yes, grimacing, Yes, I do.

- Since he's your study, you need to escort him to his quarters. Make him comfortable. I'm clocking out.

- Fine. I hang up gingerly, hear Tamahome's steady breathing echoing off the walls. 

- Goodnight, I whisper softly into the colorless sky.

The moon is hiding between the branches of the warped plum outside my window, entangling it, a snare. I enter the Patient Barracks and then the Main Hall, which is outstandingly bright with fluorescent lights for this time of evening. I walk up briskly to a smallish figure seated alone in one of the worn brown chairs, his face down turned, shoulders hunched.

- Hello, Chichiri. 

He says nothing, only twitches at the sound of his name resonating through the empty room. 

- I'm going to take you to your room now. He stands in response, eyes still fixated on the floor, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His frame is medium build, skin an ashen white, bones protruding noticeably from his collar and cheekbones. He is certainly handsome, dark mahogany eyes filled with a blankness, cold expression, lips faintly pink. 

There are also the deeply colored bruises which are littered generously on his neck, arms and the revealed part of his upper chest…they look clean, fresh, as if he just received them hours before…I muse to myself, grasping his arm stonily as we walk down the barren halls…

- Did you get your name tag yet? 

- …Yes…he's holding it in his cuffed left hand, just barely. I take it from him, Number 77A.

- No need to look so glum. He glares at me for the first time, eyes wet with unshed tears. He looks, looks so terribly angry…and yet, so helpless…

I lead him into his room silently, closing the door after ourselves. He sits uncertainly on the bed, looking up at me for further instruction.

- An alarm goes off at 7:30 am every morning. Make sure you get up; this is roll-call. The head nurse will expect you in the Main Hall at 8:00, then the Mess Hall. From there, I'll probably be seeing to you. You'll have a group to stay with. I'm your designated counselor, and you'll be able to tell your group by the blue sticker on the corner of your name tag. I breathe out, looking at him, and he turns away, shaking. 

- Wear these, handing him the beige uniform, when you're not in your room. If you're in here, you can wear your own clothes if you have any. On Fridays you can wear your own shirts as long as they have sleeves. If you have anything…clearing my throat…if you have anything unacceptable, I'll have to confiscate it immediately…although…I'm sure the security already did that. He heaves a sigh, slumping further. His hair, bright blue and absurdly buoyant, except for the back, being cropped close to his head, falls into his eyes. I reach out involuntarily and brush it away, only to have him recoil violently, hissing.

- I'm sorry. It's a bad habit….

He puts his unsteady hands over his visage, shivering. 

- Here, I'm going to unlock your cuffs now, I cautiously grasp his wrists, pulling them away from his face, revealing a slow course of tears strolling down his thin face. I unlock them carefully, so as not to pinch the skin on his wrists, then release him gently. He turns his back to me, sobbing violently. I have such a strong desire…to hold this man close, and comfort him…tell him, it doesn't matter what happened, it doesn't matter what you did…I'm going to help you…and then memories, like a flood…

Her delicate hands lifelessly clutching at the razor, so white…

Blood smeared on her neck and breasts…

-It's going to be alright. My voice sounds horrible; dry and hard. You're going to be all right. I'm going to make sure of it.

He sniffles quietly, as if afraid I might hear him. I take his shoulders and hug him lightly, barely touching, and I feel him relax immeasurably, if only for an extended moment in time….

…before he pushes me away, falling back into the bed, curling up, holding his knees. I hear his wretched weeping as I exit the room. 

__

Dreams…only recall to me…partial memories…

Why, his eyes resembled yours….in those last moments…when I held you….

Review!!! Review!! Review!!! ^^

Chiri: Ta-dah!! No da!!! Took long enough. *pouts*

Tas: Aw shat it. How come you made me so nutters, eh?

Shhhh!!! Because *grin*

Chiri: *dancing to 'Star'* I'm the star!!!!

*mewls piteously* Mitsukake is just so cool!!!!

Chiri: I'm the coolest no da…


	7. 7

Disclaimer: I'm just a fan artist/fan fiction author, and no more. FY belongs to Yuu and whoever else she's in cahoots with. I make no claims. 

Warnings: Ah. It's nice outside today…^^ Language, violence, disturbing imagery, some mature situations…the typical and of course, the angst, let's not forget that. ANGST. I love angst. I love torture, so sue me already. 0.0' Wait!! Don't really, eh, I'm broke…

Chiri: I know, no da! *slurping up ramen sadly*

Tas: *sob* It's jus' so distressin', bein' so awful po'!!

Don't worry, guys; someday I will draw that manga and you'll be having those sokubaku costumes I promised you….XD

And now…

Chiri: On with the story, no da! (it'd better have more of me in it no da -_^)

I'm not sure what it was I expected, walking into the Main Hall around eleven; probably I had rationalized, somewhat irrationally, they'd be tearing each others throats out with their bare hands, reveling in the spurting blood . 

Of course, my imagination, since having arrived that one golden afternoon, has been running wildly through the forests of my morbidity. They assembled rather nicely, if somewhat scattered, throughout the room, taking no note of my sudden intrusion. Armed with a single notepad and an extensively chewed pencil (for I am given to such nasty habits, not of my own originality, mind you), I swiftly enter the sectioned off portion, greeting Soi casually as I shuffle the files about, searching for my own particular ones. 

- You're late, she spits fire and venom.

- You'll have to excuse me. Nakago- san and I were in meeting this morning.

She seems a little satisfied with this answer, albeit not entirely, as her narrow eyes squint in disapproval and annoyance, flicking a small, intrusive gnat off of the desk with deadly accuracy. 

- It isn't part of my requirements to baby-sit your brats, she snarls, jotting this and that on a sticky note. Bad enough that idiot didn't give them their meds on time, either. I ought to report you both. 

- I'm excused for my tardiness, today, however, I intervene; leaving her staring, mouth curled into a vigorous and disgusting grimace, I briskly approach my patients.

- Good morning.

- Good afternoon, ya mean, Tasuki's amber eyes are glued to his hands, studying with undying fascination the smooth grooves and lines, not bothering to return my gaze. Nuriko is seated on the window seat, as when I first encountered him, reading what appears to be a book of poetry dating from the late Edo period. Tamahome had pointed out to me earlier that the window was Nuriko's spot and solely that; once, when Tasuki had curiously taken it for himself in wonderment of the thrill Nuriko felt whilst so positioned, he was bludgeoned rather brutally with an alarm clock and sent reeling. I hadn't really thought this lovely, willowy young man capable of such unrestrained violence…but everything is quite twisted after all, so it appears. Tamahome had chortled over the telling of such a tale, but I, on the other hand, was not amused. I did not wish to be so persecuted, for my own small nuances, whatever they may be, by the uncontrollable patients. 

I am a little confused that they are permitted to have books, as they could be used as weaponry, but…ah, well. I quickly perform a head count; I seem to have all four of my own.

- How are you feeling today, I ask Nuriko gently; he nods, murmuring what sounds like, Fine, fine. He's currently too absorbed to talk or to reason with. I move towards Hotohori.

I've only seen him, up until now, from a distance. He's an exquisite example of a human being, facial features finely chiseled, wide, luminous eyes that seem to see nothing past his own small nose. He refuses to acknowledge my presence altogether, tossing his long, dark hair over his shoulder in one swift motion, then, as if dirtied by the action, wiping his elongated hands upon his pants. I'm impressed by his overall cleanliness, and his demeanor in general, but am slightly put off that all of my patients in particular are so neurotic. 

__

They might've handed me a break with at least one of them. I thought it would be Nuriko, at least, but hearing about his violent outburst….hmmm.

- It's good to meet you, Hotohori-san, I smile genially, having been told to address him thus is really almost hysterical. I don't attempt to shake his hand, or touch him in any way; I'm afraid he might start screeching. 

- And how are you, Tasuki? 

I get no reply. Glancing up from my notes, 

-Tasuki?

-Ahhh…he growls, pinching the flesh on his hands hard before he glares at me. What?

- You all right today?

- Yeah, he sounds vacant, spacing out, his eyes wander up to the ceiling, then back to me, and he smiles half-heartedly. No. I ain't, and I ain't gonna be, neither. 

- Well, why do you feel that way? Is it all right for me to ask? I seat myself next to him gingerly, in those damnably uncomfortable brown chairs, vaguely aware of the sudden tensing of his body. He pulls away from me physically, hugging himself. I note his hair has not been combed, and his clothes are raggedly crumpled against his form as though they had not been removed in some time. I wonder why this isn't enforced more strictly, it might actually help him, after all; but who should I confer this to? 

- You know why, playing coy, hiding his face by pressing it against his knees. 

- No, I'm afraid I don't know exactly what you mean.

He snarls at me then, his facial expression completely contorted from the previous one, eyes filled with ferocity and hurt. 

- You would feel better…I start, clearing my throat, You might feel better if you got cleaned up. That helps me to feel better. 

- I can't get clean. I already tried. 

- Oh?

- Damn shower's too fucking cold anyway, he says, flicking his eyes about anxiously, Too cold and I hate that. I hate fucking cold water. 

- I… didn't know. Hmmm. I'll try and see what can be done about that for you. I stand up, avoiding bumping him as I rise, to see to the others. He seems very irate, and, somewhat unsure of how to handle this situation, I feel it is necessary then for me to leave it where it is for now, try approaching later, perhaps, when he isn't so agitated. I'm certainly not going to press for an answer, or an explanation, the way Soi does; practically wringing their necks, she drives them to violence or tears, whatever seems to suit her for the time.

I feel him tugging at my tunic, lightly; glancing down, his visage is once again startlingly fresh with wide-eyed artlessness and, sweetly, he smiles. 

- Maybe you could help me, he suggests, words loaded with syrupy charm, looking much like a small child wanting something out of his reach.

- Oh? How's that?

-We-ell…he purrs, sliding his hands down his pant legs, slowly, and then up again, Maybe you could help me get clean…His eyes stare at me unabashedly, and he smiles, incisors glinting at the corners of his mouth. He says nothing more, just begins humming some dreadful tune to himself, rocking slightly. I'm not sure I want to know what he's talking about.

Tamahome skips over enthusiastically, hiding something in his pocket. For the first time since I've been here, I wonder why the hell is he so damn chipper, anyway? I feel awful, and the day has hardly begun. 

- Got something, he grins. Tasuki and Nuriko jump up without hesitation, both looking a little fearful and anxious; Hotohori glances up momentarily, then continues his blank staring at the ceaseless tiled floor.

The new one, Chichiri, slumped over in his chair in a vibrant display of boredom and/or fatigue, doesn't even bother coming over. He simply shifts his weight a little, ignoring the commotion.

- What is it? Nuriko pries Tamahome's hands apart, revealing a few broken pieces of a mocking bird's eggshell. He cries out in surprise, smiling widely at everyone and no one. Oh, how pretty! Where did you find it?

- Outside me and Mits's apartment, he states matter-of-factly, placing it cautiously into Nuriko's waiting hands. Don't let ogress see it. She'll take it away and get me in trouble.

- I won't, I won't…Nuriko cradles it as gently as one would the actual hatchling. Where did the baby birds go? Did you see them, too?

- No, just an empty nest. That's all that was in it. He shrugs, and Nuriko sighs dramatically, turning the delicate shell over in his fingers. Tasuki is mesmerized; he watches every movement of Nuriko's fingers with a childish innocence, gasping when he almost cracks it. 

- Be careful, he chastises, eyebrows furrowed fretfully, Yer gonna break it.

- I am not. I'm being very, very careful, see? As if to demonstrate, he slowly turns it back over in his soft white palm meticulously, then glares at Tasuki in triumph. 

- I wanna hold it, he complains loudly. Tamahome and Nuriko both wince, shushing him automatically as Soi suddenly stands up from her chair behind the shatter-proof glass to observe the situation. Her eyebrow raised, she shrugs, sitting back down , continuing whatever it is she's been doing for the past hour or so. 

- Don't be stupid, Nuriko scolds, You'll break it. Remember last time? Remember? He accentuates each syllable with care, widening his eyes for emphasis. Tasuki pouts, turns around, shuffling his feet along the floor as he approaches me. His lower lip is out so far he resembles a baby chimp; the whole situation is so entirely ridiculous I feel like bursting forth in uninhibited mirth.

- I wanna hold it, make 'em give it to me, he nudges me, whispering. 

- You know he isn't even supposed to bring that in here, I reply softly. I really cannot condone you getting your hands on that thing.

He scowls, biting the inside of his cheek. I notice that Hotohori is now lightly fingering the shell, Nuriko standing in front of him so Soi's sharp eyes cannot see past. He seems somewhat engrossed with it, observing it's tiny cracks with intensity. These poor fellows haven't been outside since February, or so I understand; and Tasuki hasn't been permitted out of the Patient Barracks since his arrival last May. No small wonder, then, they are making such a big thing out of it.

I glance at my watch and admonish them to put it away; Soi emerges from her cavernous den, seemingly licking her chops in anticipation. 

- All right, boys, it's time for our daily session. She snaps her fingers impatiently. Herding them as best I can to their seats, I feel her cold eyes following me, penetrating me…

- Now then, are we all here? She looks at me questioningly, and I answer affirmative. Good, she cracks that horrific smile, good. Tamahome leans against the corner of the entranceway, arms folded neatly across his chest. I wonder briefly what happened to the eggshell; it seems to have disappeared from existence. It then occurs to me that Nuriko has deftly swept it into his sleeve, and is rigidly sitting, nervous at it's presence, fearing he might squish it. His anxiety shows; Soi targets him.

- Would you like to begin, Nuriko? Her voice is riddled with heavy contempt. She taps her clipboard. Why don't we start with, 'Today, I'm feeling…'?

- Today…today, uhm….I feel pretty good, today, actually. Nuriko chirps excitedly.

- Oh really? Soi appears distraught at this sudden change of mood. Well, how is that? You seemed so depressed yesterday…

- It comes and goes, you know…He glances down at his sleeve, then at the floor, then back at Hotohori, who is drifting off to sleep.

- I see. Soi's eyes are also resting on Nuriko's sleeve. He realizes this, chewing his lip, then raising his hand wildly, urgently.

-Yesss, Nuriko? 

- I have to…uhm…well…I've got to go….

- Well, where are you going? You can't leave until I say you can. What's the matter?

- I have to pee…This causes Tasuki to break out into violent giggles, and Soi promptly snaps his head with her pen. He appears bewildered, then very, very angry. Soi looks pleased.

- What is so amusing about excreting, Tasuki? She looms before him with the presence of some demon of ancient lore. He pushes his middle finger into her face, snarling.

- I'll laugh when I want, you old bitch, he grates out, then swings his fist out in a full round-house blow. She blocks it neatly with her arm, then grabs his arm and twists it behind his back. He stifles a cry, attempting to jerk away from her; but now, he is caught without escape. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Chichiri start, catching his breath unevenly, clutching at his wrists as if he feels Tasuki's pain. 

- Don't you ever fucking touch me, you fucking whore, she barks into his ear, twisting harder, reveling in his frightened expression, his muffled cries. An attendant nurse quickly comes over with a straight jacket, and, dexterously, forces the sobbing redhead into it, though he has to fling him onto the cold tile to do so. 

A spot of blood seeps out from Tasuki's mouth, garishly red against the harshly white floor. Nuriko shrieks, just like that; something snaps; the eggshell spills out of his sleeve in a thousand pieces.

A dead silence.

Soi points at Nuriko accusingly.

- You know you're not allowed to have foreign objects in the Barracks! she yells shrilly, and Nuriko bursts into tears, running down the hallway unsteadily to his room, leaving the bits of shell flecked all over the floor. 

- Who brought it in, she rasps through clenched teeth, eyeing both myself and Tamahome, who stalwartly replies, 

- I did.

She whirls, storming into her little concave, portioned off room, slapping papers around in a frenzy. 

- Go to Headmaster, voice radiating hatred. 

-..But!

- Go NOW. She hands him a bright orange slip with flourish, then pushes him in the right direction. Tamahome grunts something unintelligible, making his way slowly down the hallway with deliberate steps. When the door finally shuts behind him, Soi focuses on me, eyes aflame with fury.

- Did you know about this? Did you?

Before anything can come out, Tasuki bites her ankle ferociously, and fresh blood leaks out of the wound almost instantly. She squats down beside him, cringing at the pain, and rips him forcibly off her. He takes a segment of raw flesh with him, spitting it out as he cracks his skull on the hard surface of the tile. I am now standing; Hotohori is entirely asleep; Chichiri is covering his face with his hands, head in his own lap. I grab his thin, pallid arm and force him up, as well as the sleeping beauty. He appears generally horrified that I should dare to touch him, grimacing.

- Come on, I drag them both down the hallway, away from the continuing violence, shoving Hotohori into the Rec Room. Chichiri goes limp, abruptly; he falls to his knees, a dead weight as I try to lift him up. He must weigh quite a bit more than I realized; it is a trial to get him to stand, though you wouldn't know it simply by looking at him. 

We hear terrified screams emanating from the Main Hall, bloodcurdling and, at the same time, strangely child-like. Chichiri trembles; then, without any warning, he dashes away from me, scrambling across the slippery floors as I stare, dazed.

My senses come back to me with a jolt. 

- Hey!! Hey, wait a minute!! I tear after him, (damn, that little shit is fast!!!) he's already entering corridor 1B, making his way to the back entrance/exit. I know he can't get out without a keycard, but…he might…shatter the glass…even. His face permeates desperation as he violently pulls at the door barring his way to freedom; whimpering, he smashes his shoulder against it, heaving for breath, eyes glittering with sheer desperation as he sees me rounding the corner, I hear his voice, No no!! before he thrusts his arm through the glass, shredding his limb thoroughly, reaching for the outside lock--

--And I grab him, pull him to me, holding his arms down to his sides, forcing them behind him, blood coating my hands and shirt. Strangely, once he's been caught, he doesn't fight; instead, he slumps his forehead against the broken glass door, scratching it, a soft moan issuing from his lips. 

- I need a nurse over here, I call out to no one, the by standing patients look on with unperturbed delight. 

- Never mind, I haul him up to his feet, having loosely tied his wrists together behind his back with his ripped tunic sleeve, never mind. Toting him through the now crowded hallways, he allows me to control him, force him into the infirmary, where the current shift nurse yelps hysterically at this new scene.

- What…what…

- Tried to get out through the back exit….He--

-Seem to have forgotten your keycard, hmmm? A slick, dark voice hovers near, thick and solid. Nakago, dressed in a casual suit, emerges from behind a gray curtain, lifting it enough to reveal his masculine form to the fullest. He fixes his gaze intently on Chichiri, who is now panting out small, pained cries as I unknowingly dig my nails into his fresh wounds. 

- Sit him down, Nakago commands roughly, and I gently push him onto the white, papered cot, adjusting his legs in front of him. He seems to be frozen; he is shaking all over, breathing in sharp, jagged breaths, wiggling his tied wrists in a feeble effort to break loose. The nurse immediately begins applying hydrogen peroxide to the oozing wounds, ordering an underling to retrieve her first aid kit and tweezers. Nakago smiles, grabbing Chichiri's face in his hands, squeezing faintly, staring directly into his frightened and animal eyes…

…And there is something, something happening, something terrible and nauseous and wavering, as their eyes conjoin in a secret battle. I feel apprehensive, cold; Nakago suddenly breaks the silence with a rancid laugh, glaring hard at the young man.

- No. No, this won't do at all, I'm afraid. He lets go, pale pink finger streaks painting Chichiri's face. The latter's eyes never leave the Headmaster, he keeps staring unashamedly, almost fiercely, a swelling anger building in the room, tensing his muscles, his face is so white, eyes glittering with something awful…

-With her arms full of supplies, the nurse beckons for me to help her urgently.

- My god, they oughta at least make all the glass shatter proof! I swear to god, she exhales, handing me a cotton ball. I start to protest, after all, I'm no nurse's aide; she ignores me entirely, directing me to place the chemical soaked puff on Chichiri's brutalized limb. 

Nakago sneers.

- What were you thinking, nnn? What was running through your mind today? He strokes Chichiri's hair softly, grinning sadistically as he pulls it, hard, tugging a few strands loose. Chichiri bites his lip, but his eyes are still attached to that man's form, sewn on, never irresolute, eyes, beautiful, deep brown-red eyes spilling over with hatred. I feel myself hesitating, feel myself desire to protest, no, he was just afraid, he wanted to get away from her, and them, because…

Because…?

…

The resonating smack shatters, just like the glass as his arm went through, and his frail body is hurled back from the gravity of it, hitting the wall. I hear the nurse gasp audibly, dropping her supply of first aid utilities loudly onto the floor. I feel words, frustration at what has just happened, bubbling up in my throat, although, in fact, it may be something else entirely. Chichiri, never moves, hunched over like a broken doll, the bright stinging mark of Nakago's hand imprint like some god-like seal marking the so-called devil…

- I know all about you, he sneers, I know what you're made of. I know. He fondles the hand which delivered the blow lovingly, then departs, smiling coolly at me, reveling in my befuddled expression before he quietly shuts the door.

Emitting a small sound, the nurse rushes to him, helping him to sit up, tugging his drooping form up, and, when he refuses to comply, lays him down on the crackling sanitation paper, turning him over on his side lightly. She then proceeds to pick up the miscellany that fell from her arms minutes earlier, wiping her forehead from the dampness now afresh. Chichiri continues to stare into nothingness, even whilst she begins picking the glass shards out of his arm, holding cotton balls burning with cleansers and antibiotic ointments on the new, bleeding wounds. He doesn't cry out, squirm; he seems utterly inhuman, until I observe silent tears sliding down his cheeks, devastating me in a way I cannot explain, or hope to convey, not since…not since…

I can bear no more. Slipping out the door, I check my watch absently. It's already one-thirty, surprising how fast time moves when you're restraining psychotic young men, observing unauthorized violence, and trying to prevent involuntary suicide. It seemed all to be in slow-motion, I saw it all with clean cut accuracy, each picture carved into my memory…When my shift is over, I'm going to bed, I'm taking those sleeping meds the doctor prescribed for me, and perhaps…

…well, perhaps I'll forget to dream. 

*

I glance in on Nuriko, who is curled up in his heavily wrinkled sheets, breathing uniformly with the rising of his small shoulders. He had been quite distressed over the whole ordeal, blaming himself, and had attempted to kill himself, tying a noose tightly around that pearl throat, flinging it over the small rack holding his clothes and shoes; however, the rack was rather shallow, low o the ground, so it accomplished nothing but his being forced into bed, strapped down, and reprimanded by the great and wondrous Headmaster himself. That man…

Hopefully it will be different. Something about this place, about it's steel gray floors, bleached white falseness, that underlying scent of decay…it doesn't feel real, it doesn't make sense to me. I run my hands along the walls, searching for some sense of physicality, tangibility, and still, my mind is unhinged, detached. I flick off the glaring, harsh fluorescent lights to the Main Hall, breathing in the stale scent of medication, perspiration.

Tasuki had been taken to The Ward, as Soi called it, a dark, unknown area located somewhere in the facility, for 'treatment'. She had a tight bandage around her ankle, and rubbing it soothingly, described to me how he had almost ripped her Achilles' tendon loose, damn brat, always causing trouble.

-Have you diagnosed him yet? She inquired violently, eyes filled with revulsion. I couldn't answer her, then; and now…I'm not sure, I don't know. I did know the terrible pity overwhelming me as they flung him callously to the tile, that dash of red slowly, successively winding into the separations in the floor, the sense of urgency, hot in the air…I wanted to scoop him up, carry him out into the sunlight, make him see beyond the gray and beige and white, that appalling façade of purity…Make him see the bright blue sky filled with innumerous, deliciously faint clouds, soaring through the heavens; the great branches of the dry plum, grasping up, reaching for the elusive moon each night in sheer desire; the small sparrows, flitting about in the shadows, searching desperately for a bit of this or that to devour…; the small, shriveling buds of the hibiscus, withering away from lack of rain, petals falling, one by one, brownish red, to the dry earth…

I sit down unsteadily in Soi's rolling chair, resting my head on the cool desk, just for a moment, just for a moment, to regain my strength…I feel completely drained…I can hear the blood flowing in my brain, hastening about…it is so incredibly black…

How he hurt him. It really irked me, bit into my mind, how he slapped him about heedlessly, as is he were some dysfunctional toy, as if he weren't alive, but just some warped creature, made up of wires and batteries and almost out of energy…I feel my heart twinge, and I stand, walking at a slow pace, to preserve my newfound strength, to room 77, the door slightly ajar. I peek in through the crack, see him lying very still, hardly breathing, as if he's afraid someone will know, will know he's real, he's here. His hands are over his head, defensively, eyes wide open and staring into the gray and black world of night, motionless. I cannot detect even his breathing, and somewhat startled, I slide in, placing to numbly cold fingers to his windpipe. Flinching, he refuses to look at me, lowering his hands to my own, pulling them away.

- Just checking, I explain, my voice weary with the day.

- Don't, he says, his voice hard, broken. Don't ever touch me. Don't ever…touch me…

I step back from him, hands in my pockets.

- Alright. I'm sorry to have disturbed you. It's just…well, I wanted to make sure you were okay after this afternoon…

He hugs himself, turning his face into the flattened pillow beneath him. He won't respond, and I can't make him, but…

- What happened? Can you tell me, what happened before? I sit tentatively on the edge of his bed, careful not to touch or maul him in any way. Sympathy, pain, pity, remorse; I feel all of this, looking at him, curled tightly against the bed sheets, countenance hidden from view. But I don't have to see those eyes…to know what they hold…

- I…his voice is determinably muffled, but his face stay down in the pillow, I…didn't….didn't….catching his breath spasmodically, sits up, shockingly furious, Shut- up! Leave me alone!! Who the fuck are you, anyway? What do you want from me?!! He is panting from the effort, a sleek vein pulsating, twitching in a crazed fashion on the left side of his neck. Eyes soaked with hapless rage, he grinds his teeth, his fists into the mattress. 

- I…I don't want anything from you…I just want…to help you, if it's possible. And only you know…if it's possible…

His eyes explore my face thoroughly, moving quickly, then resting back on his lap. 

- I don't know. I don't know why I'm here…he hunches his shoulders, shaking his head. I don't know why anything happened the way it did, why it had to happen at all…His voice snags, and I instinctively reach out for him, pulling back when I realize my mistake. He either pretends not to notice, or doesn't care, continues staring down. 

- I didn't do it. I didn't. I didn't….He looks at me wildly, eyes filled with unspoken pleas, I didn't kill them, Mitsukake-san. I didn't…I know you don't believe me, but…I remember too much to have done it…and…he quavers, squeezing the sheets with his hands…I'm not crazy. I'm not. Mitsukake-san, I have to get out of here. I'm not crazy. Please. 

- Chichiri…I whisper, and for a moment, I see clarity, undefined sanity, radiating from his expression, his eyes, Chichiri, I wish…

- Please! His voice raises excitedly, then hushes, please, I'm not lying! I…oh, I…please!! Please, he grabs my hand, then, in a frenzy, and I know it's true, god, I know it, he looks just like her, he _is_ her…

I leap up, my heart pounding in my chest, trying desperately to think straight. 

- Look…I'll do what I can.

He smiles bleakly, staring at my back as I depart, swiftly, agitatedly. 

__

If only I could help you. But to do that, little bird…I would have to go through HIM. An I know him well, I know his soul….and what he would have for you…

He knows. He knows, and he will break you, just like the others. How I want to free you…


	8. 8

Disclaimer: I don't own FY…

Warning: Uhm, maybe mild language. Angst. I had such a hard time writing the last chapter! (Probably because I had a tummy ache…) My sister read it and didn't like it much. I wonder if you all will say the same?! I guess it was a little unnerving, a little too much in one mouthful. Oh well…read on, review if you want.

- How can I help you today?

- I just have a few questions.

- Oh?

- Pertaining to yesterday, actually. I'm a little confused about some things…

- Well, whatever I can help you with, Mitsukake. Ask away.

-…I just don't understand some of the procedures here, Headmaster. A lot of things don't seem..

- I told you, nothing is really what it seems, especially here. Even in the world outside these walls, everything is a tightly knitted sham. If things seem obtuse here, well…

- The staff is unquestioningly violent towards the patients. I don't like it. 

- The staff must protect themselves in whatever way necessary should the patients become violent--

- Soi in particular. She really bothers me. She belittles them constantly until she gets them riled, then something will happen and she'll use it as an excuse to have them toted off to the Ward. That's highly unprofessional and I would think you'd look into it. 

- I have the utmost faith in Nurse Soi. I have worked with her for years, and she appears to have the respect of the patients.

- Well, then how would you explain yesterday? It didn't seem to me that--

- Tasuki has been a recurrent problem. He's given to violent tendencies and other unsuitable behavior. If what happened yesterday came as a surprise to you, then I'm shocked, to say the least. After all, you're his overseeing counselor. You should know by now he can't be controlled. 

- Maybe he would be less violent if he was treated more gently.

- We've already tried that approach with him, and all it got us was several nurses battered brutally. This institution is looking out for not only the patients, but also the staff. If you have a problem with that, Mitsukake, then I'm sure I don't really understand what it is your saying.

- What I'm saying is, things aren't…aren't _right_ around here. 

- Elaborate, please.

- Firstly, I don't think the staff is professional. At all. They toss the patients around like rag dolls, hit them, verbally abuse them, and send them off for shock therapy, _which I thought had been out of practice, _whenever they feel the need. I'm not just talking about Tasuki Ivannovna, although I've seen it done to him as well. Secondly, the patients don't seem to have a clue about regimen. You kept going on and on about regimen when I first arrived. They don't have a schedule at all, as far as I know! They wander aimlessly, get in fights, don't take showers, lie around, it's…it's certainly not acceptable! And--

- You're very angry, aren't you? 

- What?

- Lower your voice, Mitsukake. I don't permit that kind of tone. 

- Well, I'm not finished yet. 

- …Like I stated clearly before, the staff do what they feel is necessary to keep the patients under control. If you feel, however, that they are being brutalized, I'll look into it. And it isn't shock treatment we're giving them, it's called bio feedback. And it most certainly is legal, as far as I know, and I think I know quite a bit more about these things than you do. 

- I'm sorry for being so obtrusive, sir. But--

- The regimen here is very strict. No one is ever just 'wandering around', despite what you may think. If the patients get in fights, that simply means that they need to be controlled more securely. The take showers each night before six. They take naps exactly at two, then are allowed recreation if they feel up to it. If not, they are permitted to lounge in their rooms.

- …I--

- You seem a little stressed out yourself. Maybe that's why you're taking things out of proportion, hmm? I can understand, you have exams and studying and your own personal regimen to follow in order to function properly. Tamahome informed me yesterday that the heat is getting to you, as well, so I'm having and A/C unit installed next Tuesday. 

- T-Thank you. But, I still have a lot more…to tell you…

- Well, please, go on. Don't think I'm disagreeing with you. I'm just trying to understand where it is you're coming from.

- You say…you say they shower every evening at six, right? Then why hasn't Tasuki been bathing as well? He's filthy, and his clothes are, too. 

- All that means is he isn't following regimen properly, and that would be your responsibility to make sure that he does. After all, we never force our patients to do anything they are against; but there is some prodding necessary to get the results we want.

- Results?

- Well, someday we'd like to see our patients behaving a little more normally. That's why this facility is standing, you know, and functioning. We're not just trying to lock them away from the real world, keeping the troubled under wraps so as the protect the outside from them. We're trying to help them.

- But it really doesn't seem to me that any of them are progressing! And your staff-- they aren't doing what you claim! They're treating them like--like--

- Animals? Children? Or, more likely, as abnormal people?

-…You--

- No, no. You cannot _ever_ treat the mentally ill as normal people. And sometimes it may be a little harsh to observe. But they are sub-human, and need the care as such. They can't even attempt to get well if they're treated as regular, everyday people.

- But to be beaten, and regularly?! And that reminds me of another question I meant to ask you personally.

- Go ahead.

- Why did you hit him?

- Hmmm? Hit who?

- Patient Number 77B. Li Chichiri. Yesterday, after his escape attempt. What condoned you laying a hand on him? 

- He disobeyed the proper authority.

- He needed help! He was injured, distraught-- 

- I helped him more ways than you know. He is a smirch on society. He brutally slaughtered both of his parents without a qualm. He's a pathological liar and a former addict. He's out of control in the real world. 

But I showed him, with that simple action, which you so harshly speak against, that I am his authority. He cannot and _will not_ disobey me again.

- You can't go around hitting on patients. It isn't right and I won't…won't…

- What won't you do? 

- I don't like it. I won't condone it.

- You….you won't condone it. Hmm. I don't think you can tell me what to do, Mitsukake. I know what is best for these absurd creatures and you do not. You are an intern, and this is your first year, no less. I am a doctor, of ten years. I have the knowledge and the power to gain respect from these beings, be whatever it is that I must use to get it. Do you understand that?

-….

- I hope you do. Anything else?

- Yes. I do have more questions.

- Well. I'm glad we're clearing everything up right now, it would be a pity to lose you. After all of your hard work, you know.

- Why aren't they permitted outside more often? I think this would help their overall attitudes, maybe give them some peace. They're terribly restless, always locked away inside the Barracks. 

- We do allow them outside for good behavior. Your particular group is exceptionally bad. They don't behave, or listen when they need to, or follow the staff's commands. That's why they aren't allowed out as often. And if you're talking about Mr. Ivannovna, well…surely you know why we can't let him out. It's in his records that he tried to escape once, and almost did, for that matter. He nearly killed one of the attendants. 

- But being inside all the time, in that environment is only making them worse. They're getting more and more depressed. 

- I have made sure that they are provided with other means of entertainment. 

-…Well, I don't agree. Hotohori's behavior doesn't strike me as offensive, and Nuriko, well, he's not aggressive. 

- But Shido Nuriko is suicidal. And would more than likely jump at the chance to hurt himself in some way if permitted outdoors. Hotohori simply isn't ready for such advancement, especially since I'm still grasping at straws about his ailments. I'd like to put him down as retarded, but that won't do. There is something else going on in there, and I'm going to find out what it is…

- Setting that aside, I don't think Li Chichiri belongs here.

- Hmmm. That's interesting. I think this is exactly where someone of his stature belongs.

- I spoke with him yesterday. He…doesn't strike me like they do. He's different…

- Maybe you're perceiving him that way because he's criminally insane. After all, that would make him unlike the others. He's actually committed a crime, unlike them, upon other people. Even Mr. Ivannovna hasn't murdered someone, although I certainly think he's capable of it. He's also been in prison, you see. He was tortured by the other inmates for his crimes. You know normal criminals can't stand the abnormal ones…

- You must know; you sound like you do.

- We've had criminally insane here before him. Don't interrogate me, Mitsukake. You don't want to do something like that. So…I'm not going to release him to another prison system. I think I can help him more than they can. After all, that's what I'm about. 

- Really. Well, if that's how it is…then I think you ought to seriously consider hiring a new staff. That includes that ogress you so highly recommend. She's unprofessional and very violent. I wouldn't trust her with the 'abnormal' as you so nicely put it. She harbors some kind of loathing for them, and I can't see how you would fail to notice that.

- I notice nothing shameful on Nurse Soi's part. She's perfectly well-behaved, and I won't mull about on this subject again. You're pressing me for something I won't do. If you're unhappy with this internship perhaps you'd better leave. I can't have a disruptive force in this sanitarium.

- I'm sorry, but I have to be honest with you, sir. And honesty may seem a little strange at times. But I can't help what I'm seeing and it's too bad if you don't.

- Forgive me, I do not understand you at all. Or…maybe I do. May I ask a question, Mitsukake-kun?

- Yeah.

- Why did you pursue this line of work if you cannot handle the strain?

- I-- I don't know what you mean, I…I've always been interested in helping people--

- Have you? I've flipped through your documents and read some rather interesting things about you. 

-…

- Well, there were the obvious things. An excellent, high-achieving student. Serious, with a cold-streak. Perfectly sane. Middle-class family. Even was engaged…weren't you engaged?

-…Yes.

- To a very nice girl, too. I read about her. In fact, I remember the story in the paper. I'm sure you do, too. Never would have guessed she was so depressed, what with a stunning fiancée like you and such wonderful parents…planning on college and everything…how awful.

- What…what are you saying…

- Saying? I'm just relaying back to you some things you ought to already be familiar with. And I'm starting to think maybe she was the real reason you dropped Pediatric Development and decided on Mental Disorders. It was right after the tragedy that you did it, although I'm just assuming. Assumptions is all we go by anyway, you know.

- So…?

- Are you sure this s the right field for you? I want a straight answer, and you know it already. She's…she's not them, you know. She's gone. Helping them isn't going to help you find the answer why. 

- …I specifically chose this particular field because it's what I always was interested in. I do love working with children, but….that held more interest for me. And perhaps it was because of what happened, and then again, I can't really remember. Maybe. 

- I wonder.

- You know I couldn't save her, then. 

- …Mitsukake. There is no saving anyone in this world. Everyone is responsible for saving themselves. Helping other people is all we do. But no one can determine what that one person will do, or not do. If we had that power, then we might be gods, no?

-…

- It was hard for you. I know how you feel. My mother died when I was young, and it's still hard remembering it. But somehow, I took that negative feeling and made it something good. I know I can't help them, anymore than I could help her; but I'm trying, and that's what counts. All of us are trying. And, true, our methods aren't always appealing. But if it means I can make them listen, or make them stop hurting themselves, even for a little while, I believe in it.

- But…

- Go on.

- But…please, could you just tell the nurses and attendants to be a small bit more gentle. It breaks my heart to see any human being, no matter how deranged, treated in such a way. 

- I most certainly will see to that. You see, Mitsukake, you and I are actually very much alike; we both want the best things for others. We both have had unfortunate tragedy happen to us personally. So, although we have had a misunderstanding, I hope we'll be able to work together from now on…

- I am sorry for being so irate. I'll try to control myself better from now on.

- That's what I'd thought you'd say. Don't worry-- I won't drop you. I like you, quite a bit, and would like to see you working here within a few years, after you graduate. 

- It would be an unspeakable honor.

- Anything else for today?

- No. No, nothing. Thank you for your time.

- Quite welcome. Please come see me tomorrow as well.

^^' phew. 

Tas: Now what is this?

Chiri Mits is turning to the dark side, na no da!!!

Mits: Chichiri, I am your father!!!!!! *DOOM*

Chiri: That's just not possible. No da.

He has a point, Mits.

Mits: *DOOM*

Tas: But quit arguing' with him, 'cause it's makin' him mad!

Review? Myew?


	9. 9

Disclaimer: I disclaim, that I do…

Warnings: Angst, language, disturbing imagery…the usual. Note that I put 'angst' first. Isn't that what it's always about? But seriously, where am I going with this? Is Naka-chan playing innocent? Is Chichiri really insane? Will Tamahome start sleeping in his own bed? Should Tasuki do a striptease? 

Chiri: -.0 What!

Tasuki: … All right, I knew that's what ya really wanted anyway…*yanks off shirt*

Chiri: *faints*

Mits: Now look what you did. 

Tasuki: Jus' couldn't take the heat, I guesss…*snicker*

Ba-dum-ba-dum-ba-dum…. Here we go!!!

I'm having dreams again…

Dreams like those I encountered directly after everything came to closure that evening in early October, when the wind was just beginning to take on a chill, the leaves slowly undergoing a metamorphosis of color with their imminent decay… My garden suffocating under the heaps of dead foliage, hibiscus long withered away, a mere memory of the glorious and infinitely warm summer she and I had spent together…

Shifting, warping within the confines of my mind, shapeless words and distorted pictures, terrible, unfocused, and that memory protruding sharply against the vivid colors and imagery, that memory of her delicate form torn from life, alabaster hands curled gently around a razor blade, lips stained with her own blood…and, in the darkness, I hear screams, faint, and then loud, overwhelming, covering everything like a sweltering mass of molten iron--

--and I always seem to wake, right before the worst takes place, right before I find her…

The seasons are recalling to my mind these painful things. Glancing up from my studies, I see the plum blossoming outside my window, fragrance delightfully heavy in the cool air, petals quivering from the soft breeze. It's really becoming rather cool, and I must admit, I'm grateful; the heat from the past months was unbearable, even with the tiny, shaking A/C pumping out a false sense of refreshment. Tamahome would sit directly in front of it, fanning himself violently and sipping iced green tea, whining like an overheated engine, cursing the Headmaster for his cheapness.

But now, the October wind…carries that lovely, long awaited crispness, littered throughout with brightly colored leaves, swirling about in scattered patterns, and my heart….hurts…

I had arranged, after some difficulty, to have my group outside for a day. It would do them good, or so was my running argument, to get some real air and quit inhaling all those cleaning fumes. The Headmaster suggested it would probably do me more good than them, and it flashed across my mind, for the first time since I arrived, how little I enjoyed the privilege of being alive, of the world around me. Perhaps that's really why I was pushing for it with such vigor, or perhaps…in a way, I may be trying to take my mind off of other things, things that my subconscious keeps bringing into full view, allowing me no rest. 

Over the past two months, it seems things have begun to change. A new crew of nurses was brought in about three weeks after my original complaint, ones less inclined to violence, and the patients reacted rather pleasantly. Nuriko hasn't attempted another suicide since the 'bird egg' incident (as we now refer to it ) occurred, which, according to the Headmaster, proves my worth, as Nuriko was performing at least one attempt each week since he arrived, although usually they were only partially contrived and full of holes. Hotohori seems to be a little more aware of his surroundings, and has actually sought out friendship with Nuriko, huddling close to him to inform him of his moods, thoughts and desires. This is normally how I find out what Hotohori wants, needs, etcetera. I suppose this sudden attention has also helped Nuriko a great deal, as well, for he seems to be openly thrilled with the idea that Hotohori has chosen him, out of all the patients on the ward, to confer with. I shouldn't say they're happy, because, in truth, they aren't, not truly; yet it's something similar, and it feels almost…good. 

Tasuki is still behaving strangely, as one might expect from an individual with double-sided schizophrenia ( it seems he has both paranoid and disorganized) and dissociative identity disorder; and yet there is change here, too. His sudden mood changes, violent surges and blatant sexual behavior are somewhat reduced from the constant flow from before…it has lessened in pace, shall we say, and he is, at times, childishly normal, smiling and chattering away with other patients until a sudden onset of paranoia takes him. I think, personally, it may have something to do with the old staff being relieved of their duties, which almost always meant, for Tasuki, a beating or a mental probing. His newfound joy at simply being able to laugh, cry, or slap himself and not be punished for it is exquisite, although I also noticed he seems to be in a straight-jacket more often than not. 

And Chichiri…he…pretends to be strong, refusing to answer Headmaster during therapy sessions, spitting out his medication when he thinks no one is paying any mind, weeping softly only when his head is covered underneath the warm security of his thin sheets. I pity him, because deep in my soul, I feel his sanity fading away, fading into despair, depression. He does not belong here, and yet, I would not want him to suffer further in a prison, where he might endure…well, and I think he already has seen, and experienced, quite a bit in such places. Involuntarily, I suppose, at first, I began wandering into his room, during his rest period, to converse. He always listens, carefully attentive, eyes full of gloom and sympathy, as I rake over the past, the present, and my incongruent fears and wishes. And then, sometimes, he will speak of some unknown childhood, memories that he likes to remember, moments that bring something to him I cannot explain…a melting tranquility, softly lighting his soul, caressing his worn heart. It would be wrong to befriend them, no matter how normal; and yet, I am afraid that is exactly what we have done, exchanging our thoughts and secret reminiscences, welcoming that subtlety divine, joyous emotion. He even allows my hand to graze his shoulder now and then, though I feel every muscle tighten and spasm, an automatic reaction, probably self-taught from his days in the prefecture prison. This upsets me immensely, for I cannot know what it must be like, to fear to be touched, to fear that wonderful, endless warmth that only human love can convey…it makes me sad, knowing that someone has hurt my friend so terribly, he refuses to let himself know this feeling, to experience this happiness.

The Headmaster, displeased with this apparent lack of determination, has suggested to me on more than one occasion that Chichiri be subjected to some 'treatment', or bio feedback, for further research. Up until now, I have fought him over this idea, reasoning that he still isn't adjusted and to please, please give him a little more time…the medications he's taking will eventually begin taking effect, he'll eventually be more open, once he feels more comfortable in his environment, think of how difficult life has been for him…every excuse I can conjure has been used in his defense, because…because, I really don't want him to experience that. I know he'll feel I've betrayed him, if it comes to that. 

Now, gazing out at the swiftly approaching twilight, I rise, stretching laboriously. They'll be waiting for me, and I only have a little time to show them what the evening sky looks like, how sweet the withering flowers smell on the rushing wind, the song of the bell cricket, sorrowful and endlessly encompassing, reaching through the night, into the stars, carrying my heart with it…

Gathered in the Main Hall, Nuriko squeals enthusiastically at my slow and undeterminably excruciating arrival, grabbing my sleeve and tugging, motioning for Hotohori to follow suit. Unexpectedly, I find the both of them clinging to either sleeve, Nuriko blurting out how he's just been waiting forever to see the autumn leaves again…how he waits all year just to feel them fall in his hair…

It's all so human.

Tasuki follows close behind me, as if afraid that something dreadful is awaiting at the exit, a great heaving monster known as freedom, just outside these milk white walls, exhaling pure and wondrous air onto us, the last, orange lights of the sun bathing our forms. Tasuki is indeed beautiful, his amber eyes aglow with the luminosity pouring forth from between the trees; red hair, standing upright, shining luxuriously; his tan skin takes on a golden sheen, our miniature and extremely ill Ganymede, standing afore all the world, shivering slightly from the cool, enveloping wind. He turns to me, mouth poised for a question, then looks out, again, over the vastly variegated yard, breathless, eyebrows knitted in furious thought. 

- It's so beautiful, he whispers, so beautiful, so beautiful…

- Autumn, I say softly, is always this way. When did you see it last?

Nuriko has taken Hotohori's hand generously, and is now walking him over to an oak, majestically donned in it's myriad of vibrant leaves, offering his hands up to catch the colors. 

- I…he looks at me, sunlight clinging to the sensuous curve of his cheekbone, I…I can't…remember. I don't know. Staring into the sky, he sighs audibly, his arms shifting uncomfortably in the fastenings of his straight-jacket. I haven't been outside…since…well, I can't remember. He studies the other patients, seated in the courtyard, talking amongst themselves, or to themselves; watching with finality the last of the sun's light disappearing over the red horizon. I turn around, see Chichiri leaning against the wall of the Barrack, eyes closed, breathing in the revitalizing scent of the autumnal air, arms folded neatly over his chest. 

- C'mon, you two, I tap Tasuki's arm, then motion for Chichiri to join us. I want to show you something. Tasuki smiles curiously, leaning his head against my upper arm, eyes darting to and fro, taking in all the color, all the movement that he's been missing for the small eternities he's been confined. Chichiri walks with us, hesitatingly, always a few feet behind, and I know what he is doing, he's eyeing the electrical fences, the tiny sparrows perched carelessly on the twisted, barbed tops, preening obliviously. He wants out so badly, I can the pressure building in my skull, and what would I do but lift him up, up and over those mountainous fences, if I could…

- It's not much of a pond, motioning to the delightfully petite body of water before us, fenced, of course, but still a lovely view, if you can ignore all those disruptive lines stretching , marring the scenery. Tasuki seems so used to it, he looks beyond it without faltering, grinning wide.

- Wow, I didn't know they even had a lake here! I been left in the dark! He presses his face against the wire, smiling to himself endlessly, turning to Chichiri excitedly, I want to touch it!

- But you don't know how to swim, Tasuki, I gently inform him, and besides, it's probably very cold this time of year. He appears disappointed, but it doesn't last very long, as Nuriko, shrieking with elation, brings over handfuls of variously colored leaves, Hotohori trailing behind in a rather dignified way, cradling a twig, full of withered blossoms, as gingerly as one might a new born.

- Look! Aren't they lovely? He sits down, on his knees, spilling them on the ground before us. Tasuki struggles to squat beside him, as his arms are not available for use, swaying unsteadily. I sprawl out , unfurling my tired body unto the soft, pleasantly scented grasses beneath, , folding my hands underneath my head. The sky is so vast ; the stars are just now showing themselves, a glittering veil of tears, and I think of her…

__

Some god must be crying very hard to make so many stars, Mitsukake…

What do you mean?

I always thought they were tears from the gods. It makes sense to me.

It does, doesn't it?

- This reminds me…Hotohori's voice, suitably noble and smooth, breaks through my daydream. This reminds me of some old Chinese poetry I studied in college. He sounds so entirely normal I gawk at him, until he glares in my direction sullenly, pulling a small maple leaf to bits. Returning to my thoughts, I quickly do a head count; reassured, I close my eyes…

- What poetry? Like, T'ang Dynasty?

- Well, yes. I suppose. That sounds about right. I feel as if we should be seated in a pavilion somewhere…

- That would be so lovely…I hear a very familiar intonation in Nuriko's voice, slightly disturbing. It was brought to my attention, by the Headmaster, naturally, that Nuriko has a tendency to fall in love with whoever will talk to him seriously. I thought perhaps he was doting on Hotohori a little much, especially when, in a fit of jealousy, he told me to let Hotohori to him, _he'd_ take care of him. I know I laughed at the time, but now…I wonder if this will affect his moods. He seems happy enough, even if it's loosely based. I suppose my turning my head would be better, anyway.

- Do ya think ole' Nakago will let us out more now that Mits's here?

- I hope so. I hate being cooped up in my room all the time, it's dreadfully depressing.

- …I remember before I came here, my mother an I would go mountain viewing in the autumn. It was always my favorite thing to do.

- Sometimes my family would go cherry viewing, but we never went 'mountain-viewing'. 

- It's not something I would say is a common practice.

- Have you ever gone to Kyoto in the spring? It's so gorgeous! All those flower petals flying everywhere, I used to dance under them, and my dad would yell at me--

- I never seen nothing 'cept maybe once a dead cat. Somebody run it over.

- Eew!! Don't bring things up like that, Tasuki! I'll be sick!!

- Ah, shut-up. You never seen a dead cat before? There was worms crawlin' all over it--

- Yuck! I said be quiet already! Rustling of leaves, a mewling sound, giggles. I feel a something warm against my chest, a hand, I believe, and then something more; opening my eyes a crack, I see Chichiri laying his head on my chest, hand sliding along my ribs, embracing me. I stroke his hair softly; the breeze blows Nuriko's leaves about, soaring up into the open heavens, stars now sparkling in full grandeur. I know…I know this…

__

Don't let go. Don't ever leave me, please.

How could I ever leave my life?

You love me, don't you?

I love you more than anything. I would open up the very heavens to retrieve you. 

On Earth, as a tree sharing a branch; and in the Heavens, as birds of one wing…

- Mitsukake…

__

It's so cold, and yet I would love to stay here, I'll never leave you again…

- Mitsukake-san…

- Mitsukake, what's wrong?! 

I open my eyes to the darkness, accented by the sheer, powerful moonlight, outlining everything in a gray-blue. Chichiri is staring at me in confusion; the others, too, are leaning over me curiously, Nuriko, plucking at the withered flower twig. Chichiri's eyes are brimming with sadness; I place my hand on his face tentatively, and to my astonishment there is much warmth there. 

- What…what's the matter?

- You…you were…Chichiri breaks off, glancing at Nuriko, who holding his face in his hands dramatically; Tasuki is gaze is fixed intently on my cheeks and I feel, with a chill wind, the tears I've been crying swiftly coursing down my visage…

- It's nothing, I sit up, rubbing my eyes, wiping them away, leaving a salty smear as a memory. Something got in my eye, I think…

Tasuki won't take his eyes of my face, the faintly outlined traces of my tears. He almost looks…angry, but there is something else there, some emotion I can't place, riddled into his features sharply, and he suddenly leans against me. I am startled, as he nestles his head under my chin, only for a moment, allowing me the delicious scent of his freshly washed hair, the soft feel of it against my neck. Nuriko glances at Chichiri uncertainly, then inches toward me, cautiously, circling his arms around my right one, holding me close. My shock must be obvious, for Chichiri smiles faintly, eyebrows furrowed, and pats my hand. Hotohori follows Nuriko's initiative and takes my other arm.

We stay like this for too long, I suppose. Night's shadows are conclusive upon us, draining the world of color. The silence is fathomless; I can hear the gentle lapping of the pond's fragilely small waters against it's shore. And I have no desire to leave them in their barracks, alone and afraid, strapped down helplessly, injected with sedatives for sleeping and anti- psychotics and whatever else Soi would have.

I see Tamahome in the distance, emerging from the Patient Barracks worriedly, and I call out to him. He spots us, raises an eyebrow, grinning, then lopes over, tucking in his oversized work tunic all the while.

- It's after lights out, he informs me. Soi is going fucking crazy over in the nurses quarters. He laughs, You'd better get these guys back to their rooms before she starts some shit over this, my man. He pulls Hotohori up, brushing off his backside for him genially. There you go, come on, you don't want Soi to get mad at you, right?

- All right, let's go. I help Tasuki to his feet, clasping his shoulders lightly, and I whisper in his ear, Thank you, thank you for…this. He doesn't know how to respond; he just stares, motionless. Chichiri pushes him ahead, rather roughly, and Tasuki smiles to himself.

If I can give them this little bit of happiness…then it might be worth it. 

__

Shouka, please don't cry. I know you're hurting, but…

I can't help it. They just keep coming out, no matter what.

If I only knew how to help you…then I could make it stop, right?

You always…you love me, don't you?

How could I not?

The hallways are so dark. I see them all into their rooms, strapping them in as necessary, whispering 'goodnight' as they stare at me in awe. Chichiri stares the most, and then, he pulls me to him, holding me as I weep, ceaselessly, and I cry out for her, beg for her to come back to me, not to leave me so alone…

Oh, it hurts, my love. I do know. 

- It's all right, it's all right, it's all right, Chichiri repeats this melody, stroking my back soothingly, whispering these gentle assurances in my ear. I don't know how long this goes on for; it seems like hours, yet I know it could only be minutes, for I hear the night watch walking briskly through the reverberating hallways, a metallic sound as his heels click noisily. 

- I'm sorry…to trouble you…I compose myself, going to the door as he watches me, and then, his voice, clear and heartbreaking:

- Mitsukake, you…you must've loved her very much…

- I did. I still do…

His hands flutter up to his face, sighing, I know, I know she must have loved you much more than you know…and…still does, too. He closes his eyes, and I depart.

Returning to my apartments, I see Nakago standing at his curtained window, looking at me.


End file.
